


Flesh and Bone

by Eisengrave, Maelikki



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types, Prototype (Video Games)
Genre: M/M, alex is an ass, and we love him for it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-25
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2019-06-16 06:07:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 22
Words: 60,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15430638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eisengrave/pseuds/Eisengrave, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maelikki/pseuds/Maelikki
Summary: The first thing Desmond noticed about him up close was the icy blue of his eyes. Even with the shadow of the hood and considering the dim lights in the bar, they were still bright enough for it to look almost unnatural. Almost.[Obligatory Alex and Desmond meet in NYC before he dies. Combines the plots of Prototype 1&2 and Assassin's Creed 1-3 loosely. Indulgent AF, Simultaneous POV format as per usual.]





	1. Chapter 1

He _needed_ this.

At least, that’s what he kept telling himself. The excuse held steady against every objection that came to mind. All the way from his office to the subway and to the station. He had plenty of reasons to head home, to barricade the door and windows and drink in the dark until sleep took him into its sweet, black oblivion.

And yet, the fears weighed up against the dire all-consuming need for company, and lost. Human company, strange company, anonymous company. Anything was better than sitting in the dark and expecting the monsters to crawl out of the woodwork.

So, a bar would do.

Not one he’d usually go to, with sleek leather seats, bouncers and social animals frequenting it. No, that’s where _they_ would expect him to go. Hence the subway ride.

 

He didn’t come to this part of town, and some corner of his mind pointed out that if he was being followed, he was at least ruining someone’s night as they scrambled after him.

But more than that, he wanted to be anonymous, surrounded by regular people with regular problems. The filthy, stupid masses that lived for Friday night and the weekend. And that’s exactly what he found in the _Bad Weather_. Idiots in cheap clothes that bore no tags, imitation leather and labels for imitation people pretending to live a lifestyle they couldn’t afford. Ah, welcome to New York.

Alex had been sitting at the bar for a solid ten minutes before he finally leaned forward to try and catch the attention of the poor stoner bastard that probably had dreams once upon a time and had poured them into bottles instead. In other words, a bartender.

 

From the moment the stranger had entered the _Bad Weather_ , he had had eyes on him. Most of them at first, as the other regular guests tried to figure out if maybe he was a friend of a friend they had to greet or smalltalk to and then fewer and fewer until only said bartender observed him silently.

It had been a calm night so far, Desmond had mostly handed out beer and the occasional spirit, nothing out of the norm.

Next to all the lower and middle class workers here, the man in his black leather jacket didn't fit in with his designer shoes and perfectly manicured nails. Desmond left him to his devices for now, busy with some drunk regulars on the other side of the bar, but when he caught a glimpse of the guy wanting his attention, he came over.

The first thing Desmond noticed about him up close was the icy blue of his eyes. Even with the shadow of the hood and considering the dim lights in the bar, they were still bright enough for it to look almost unnatural. Almost.

“What's it gonna be for you?” just because he looked like Upper Eastside Desmond wouldn't treat him any different. Not here. Perhaps the guy was drunk already and lost?

 

“Scotch. No ice.”

Alex didn’t give the bartender the courtesy of removing his hood. There was no dress-code in a shithole like this, so he saw no sense in showing anyone his face. He spat his order and looked away from the bartender, who was some guy in his twenties. Deep tan, close crop hair, thick scar on his thick lips. Not an entirely terrible prospect for a loser stoner. Alex steepled his fingers, trying to keep himself from drumming his knuckles on the dark wood of the bar. He really didn’t want to give anyone the impression that he was here to make friends in the slums, or god forbid, talk to someone.

 

Ah.

The man’s cool tone and surprisingly deep voice for a slender, handsome guy like him told Desmond tales about how his first impression had been right. He wasn’t the first victim of high-class society to end up here, at the end of the rope of either his job or his so-called friends. Desmond knew to leave his kind alone and provide them with the occasionally demanded drinks until they started talking entirely on their own. Not that he absolutely needed to chat to people, but Desmond was a sociable guy and usually, his job entailed a lot of talking. And a lot of therapy sessions for lonely souls.

Usually, he heard the same old stories about John’s ex-wife or Clint’s runaway kids. With this guy, at least he’d have some new story to listen to.

Scotch first though.

Desmond made sure to pick out a particularly polished glass, took care to not add ice before he poured the drink and put it down in front of the guy, expecting no words of thanks.

“Here you go. Good stuff.”

Probably not for him, but alcohol was alcohol and it got rich guys as drunk as it got poor guys.

 

“Yeah, right.” Alex didn’t examine the content of the glass, gulping down the cheap scotch like water. It burned his throat and he felt the bite of it, strong enough to gag on. Good. That was a start. The thick-bottomed glass would be empty very quickly if he carried on this way.

The bartender was hovering. Alex resisted the impulse to throw the glass his way. He had no intention of being thrown out, and the view of the window to the street beyond showed a depressing amount of drizzly rain. Combined with the wind, it looked like an ass kind of night, and not one that Alex wanted to step out into any time soon.

He took his glass and turned away from the bartender. With his hood drawn deeply into his face, he hoped the guy got the message to fuck off.

 

Desmond got the message alright, but that didn’t deter him from wiping the counter close by. The bottle of scotch he kept at the ready. Knowing the guy’s kind of person, the one glass wouldn’t last all that long.

So, he was definitely right there, too, the guy was just here to get drunk. Really, Desmond should make some sort of bingo for this kind of situation. After a few glasses, he would surely learn what the reason for his presence here was. As far as Desmond’s experience went with rich people looking to get drunk, and it was more than the bar’s exterior would let one think, there were only two options. Either women troubles or job, there wasn’t really much else.

Rich people didn’t come here to get drunk about negligible stuff, they came here when they were nearing some sort of existential crisis, something they could not let their not-friends see.

As expected, the glass of scotch was empty when he turned around after only three minutes. Desmond poured him another, in silence this time. He knew how to wait, let the alcohol do the work. And then he’d find out which one of the two it was.

 

Two glasses became three in no time at all. Alex didn’t know how much it cost to drink at this pace, and frankly, he did not care.

And yet, the scotch wasn’t burning his thoughts away as he’d hoped. They churned around in his head, chasing each other, making everything worse. The amiable, indistinguishable talk of the other patrons was anything but reassuring. Alex began to glance around, but no one was looking his way, right?

 

A table by the door was filled with men all dressed in dark overalls. A likely disguise, or just a working man’s garb? Alex didn’t know. Didn’t trust it. The longer he watched, the more suspicious they seemed. Were they nodding towards him? A shudder ran down his back. Maybe he wasn’t so paranoid, and they really had sent people after him. People that would make him disappear.

Shit.

He had to talk to someone, someone that might help if he was going to be dragged off.

The only person near him was that stupid bartender. Alex waved him over yet again, but he didn’t give up his half-empty scotch glass.

“...you got a bouncer in this place?”

 

The question was odd and definitely not the one Desmond had expected.

At this point, the guy was supposed to talk about the girl that left him or the cheating wife or the stress at work. Instead he seemed tense, nervous, more so than when he’d come in an hour ago.

“Uh, yeah, kinda.”

The _Bad Weather_ did not have a regular bouncer. On the weekend nights, Frank was there, but during the week, Desmond was bartender and bouncer in one.

He’d thrown out a few guys before and knew how to hold his own in a fight.

One advantage of growing up on the Farm. The only one, really, but Desmond was an optimistic guy with a winning smile. Exactly the one that he directed at the stranger now.

“You’re talking to him. What do you need?”

 

“You? Shit.” Alex threw back the last of his drink. There was no way that this tall glass of bean water could hold his own against a group of guys if they decided to get hands on with Alex. Well. Fuck. Better keep talking, and at least make sure someone knew his face if he went missing. Not that it would help, but it could deter those fucks by the door.

Alex cautiously drew back his hood, despising the way his hair curled when it was damp and the way the light drained what remained of a living shade of skin out of his face. But whatever. He had to be recognizable enough for a police sketch, or something.

“I need you to keep looking at me, and at those guys behind me. Tell me if they so much as look in my direction, got it?”

For incentive, Alex stuffed a fifty into the bartender’s tip jar.

“Make me something complicated.”

 

For the fifty, Desmond could shut up and bite back a cynical comment about the relation between a fat wallet and paranoia.

“Coming right up.” He said, grinned and began mixing his signature drink without looking. Instead, he stared at the man, sometimes at the guys behind him, but more to calm the man.

His hands worked alone, he didn’t need his eyes for a drink he’d made a thousand times before. The light here really didn’t do the guy any favours, his skin was pale enough to even let his eyes have some colour and the stark contrast to the black hair on him did the rest.

With the bags under his eyes he looked like he hadn’t slept in days.

 

Since he was being tipped to keep staring at the guy (and those behind him, but whatever), Desmond studied thin lips and a fine nose, the pronounced cheekbones. The guy was good looking, especially with his slightly curly, damp hair. Although the urge to touch the flat mop was there, he resisted it professionally.

 

“You look like you had some sort of bad day.” He stated. It was an understatement, really, the guy looked like he’d had a whole year’s worth of bad days.

 

“Every day’s a bad day.” Alex kept his eyes on the bartender’s hands. It was vaguely soothing not to look at his face and see his own mug reflected in the guy’s eyes. Plus, it was weird to stare at a stranger like that. Not that he cared, but he didn’t need to send Mr suave bartender any more confused signals.

 

Bad enough that he was calling him out on looking like a dead man walking.

 

“Are you even old enough to be working here? Nevermind. I don’t give a shit. Is that a fucking umbrella?”

The guy was maybe six or seven years older than him, but he really seemed to like playing the age card. Well, Desmond got employed here for his good looks and not for experience, so maybe he had a point. Maybe.

 

“Shirley Templar.” He introduced his masterpiece to Alex and pushed it towards him, “The umbrella’s on the house. I’d rather you pluck that apart instead of bruising your knuckles. You look like you need those.”

 

When the guy looked up at him, no doubt to give him some sort of asshole comment for it, Desmond grinned and shrugged, raising his hands. “Hey, I tried, okay?”

 

“Isn’t it supposed to be a Shirley Temple? I’m trying to get drunk, not turn into a pussy.” Alex ignored the comment about his hands. They were instruments of a mastermind, and this buffoon bartender had no idea who he was talking to or what caliber of mind Alex possessed. Then again, Alex didn’t expect anything more out of some two-bit stoner with blowjob lips.

 

Desmond indicated the drink. “I’m aware. It’s a drink to get drunk and not notice until it’s too late. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”

 

The guy was still giving him half a cold shoulder, but to Desmond, this was progress. He wasn’t exactly an optimist, not after the Farm, but guys like this man, they brought out the positives even in him.

 

Besides, the guy was trying hard to not look at his face all the time, it was kind of cute how he tried, even with rising alcohol levels in his blood, to be a hardass all around.

Desmond leaned his weight on his tattooed arm on the counter, giving him another of those smiles of his.

 

“Try it, man. I promise you’ll be drunk in no time. Special recommendation.”

 

“Fine,” Alex fished the umbrella out of his drink and ignored the straw with an indignant glare to the bartender. He took a small sip, expecting fruit and sugar. Instead, he got a hearty bit of throat burn and spice.

 

“What the fuck is in this? Habanero?” he took another gulp though, because whatever it was, it would fuck him up fast. And that was kind of the point. When you lived every day like it was your last, you had to find other ways to knock you out for some sleep.

It had been about forty hours since Alex even thought about getting some shut eye, but this potent shit might do the trick.

 

“You got a name, sir mix-a-lot?”

 

The man downed the drink like he was hell-bent on getting drunk. With three scotch and this baby in him, even the coldest glacier would start melting, albeit slowly.

Desmond watched his adam’s apple bob as he nearly emptied the glass in one go.

 

He was pretty handsome, for a guy, and this wasn’t the first or second time Desmond’s brain had helpfully informed him about the fact. It was the fourth or fifth time, but since he didn’t know what it was supposed to mean, he simply ignored it. For now.

 

“Jake.” Desmond lied easily, raising his hand over the counter. He didn’t expect a handshake, but at least wanted to offer the gesture.

He’d been living for the past six years with his alias, it was almost more his name than his actual name.

Everyone here knew him as that, but somehow, introducing himself to this guy made him question it again. Weird.

 

“How about you? Fancy name for fancy shoes?”

 

“Alex.” He looked at the offered hand and raised an eyebrow. He wouldn’t be shaking anyone’s hand without any disinfectant on his person, and who knew how many bacteria-ridden washcloths Jake had touched with those meaty palms.

 “That’s all you need to know.”

 Half of the Shirley Templar was gone, and finally, Alex felt that light-headed rush of alcohol taking over. It was bliss compared to the circus of fears and wild theories that usually spun around in his mind.

 “Those guys still there?”

 

When Alex didn’t shake his hand, Desmond let his hand dive for the towel instead. Like he had planned it all along, he started polishing the clean glass in his hand.

Congratulating himself on his smooth move, he let his eyes wander over Alex’ shoulder. The men on the table behind him were gathering their stuff and leaving. Hannah, the only waitress tonight, on the other side of the room, currently delivering drinks to another table, smiled at him and Desmond smiled right back. She was cute and they’d had a thing not too long ago but kinda both decided to not pursue anything.

 “They’re leaving. Another?”

 Desmond didn’t really want to fill him up, but Alex was intriguing, like a rare gem among all the pebbles that rolled into this establishment.

 “You know them or something?”

 

“No. And yes. Another of these monstrosities. I don’t need to remember tonight.” Alex relaxed, marginally. Either his tail was losing him for tonight or they weren’t Gentek at all, but he was pretty sure he wasn’t that lucky. They probably just didn’t want to gun him down in front of witnesses. It was all hush hush, sweep the dead bodies under the nice carpet.

Fucking shithouse.

 

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the waitress give them a look.

“Your girlfriend?”

 

“Nah.” Desmond chuckled, “Just a friend. I mean she’s a girl, too, but like… you know. One time thing. I’m not good with stability and such.”

 

He mixed together the next drink. This time, Alex got a glitter pick instead of an umbrella in his Shirley Templar.

 

It was almost time to find out which option it was. After that curious question, Desmond was quite sure it must be some sort of woman issue, but he was ready to be surprised. He could probe a little into the general direction.

 “You got one? Girlfriend I mean, not stability.”

 

“Yeah. I guess.” He didn’t wanna think about Karen. She’d gotten worse and worse over the last weeks, and it was a bold assumption to think they were still a couple after the rows they’d had, but Alex had bigger problems than her bitching.

 “Doesn’t matter though. Nothing does.” He accepted his refill, even ignoring the tasteless decoration of it. As long as he could forget everything tonight, he’d be fine.


	2. Chapter 2

Desmond would have commented that if the door didn’t open and a large group of half-drunk people positively flooded the bar. Hannah looked at him with question in her eyes, where did all these people come from around this time? They didn’t have time to question it.  For the following three hours, Desmond was busy enough to not even be able to regret he couldn’t keep talking to Alex and find out which option it really was.

Beer here, whiskey there, cocktail for the lady over there.

It was usually only this full on the weekend, but Desmond learned that apparently some Instagram rich kid had just recommended them for whatever reason and that was apparently what drew a wagon load full of people here.

 

Alex in his corner on the side of the bar was easily overlooked and there was only time to give him refills as long as he wanted to. After a certain amount, Desmond mixed water instead of extra ginger ale into it and added more juice. As a bartender, he did have some sort of care to take of his patrons.

Water and juice or not, Alex was downright wasted by the time the last people drained out of the bar. He wasn’t even glaring at everyone anymore, his face down on the cedar of the bar, the pitiful remnants of his drink in the glass still in his hand.

It wasn’t really a snooze, but he was certainly incapable of lifting his head up. This was what he’d wanted. He didn’t care what he looked like, didn’t care about the attempts of the waitress to revive him. His head was empty.

 

“Go home, Hannah.” Desmond intervened after she’d shaken Alex for the third time now and let his head bonk back onto the table. He offered her an easy smile, “Don’t worry, I got him. You gotta get out of these shoes, I know the drill. Go on, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He was rewarded with a grateful, tired smile and Hannah was out of the bar soon enough. The last soul remaining, Desmond finished his part of the cleanup and left the rest to the crew that would get the whole place tidied up until the Bad Weather opened again tomorrow night.

Thomas and Ned were already cursing about the toilets’ condition, he could hear them. Instead of asking about it, which he had learned early on was a mistake, he waved them goodbye and then rounded the counter to grab Alex’ shoulder gently.

“Hey, man. Alex? You awake?”

There was little movement in him. Desmond sighed. “We’re closing. I need you to get up.”

 

“Fuck off.” Was the delighted response Desmond got for his efforts. Alex did raise his head, but he wasn’t in any shape to start walking.

“Shirley Templar.” It was a question, a demand, an order and a plea, all rolled into one.

 

“We’re out of that, dude. Time to go home.” When Alex didn’t get up, Desmond dove to push his shoulder under his arm, wrapped his own arm around his back and pulled him up.

Alex was smaller than him, lighter and currently very pliant to being pulled around. Thankfully.

“Come on, you gotta move your feet. Just a bit, Alex, you’re a big boy now, you can do it. Do it for Shirley.”

 

“Fuck you,” Alex did nothing to stop this unwanted shift in direction, and his feet managed to work and move under his legs so that he could stand. Swaying, if the bartender let him go, but standing nonetheless.

“What are you doing? It’s early. I paid fucking money to drink.”

 

“Yep. And now you’re drunk out of your mind, just what you wanted.” Desmond patted his back amiably, “Walk with me, okay?”

They somehow managed to get onto the nightly street outside. It was about three in the morning and the traffic had died down a bit, though NYC never truly slept.

Desmond preferred the night to the day though, less likely for anyone to look at him, recognise him, take a photo of him or some other bullshit like that…

He pulled up his hood.

Maybe he just had a good day or maybe it was Alex clinging to him and pushing him away at the same time which was kind of an endearing effort for a small, lithe man like him, but Desmond was in a great mood. A mood great enough to be wanting to take care of Alex, to make sure he made it somewhere safe.

“Where do you live?” Desmond asked as he was directing both of them towards the nearest tube station.

 

“At the fucking Renalia.” Alex had no idea where he’d gotten on or off the tube, or if they were still running, or if he remembered how to get home, but once he saw the station, he pulled away harder until the barkeeper let him go. He stumbled three steps and caught a lamppost that he clung to for balance. Shit. Was he gonna throw up? No, he absolutely wasn’t as he forced the bile back down. The sidewalk looked inviting, but fuck if he was gonna touch it, no matter how much he might want to sleep on it.

 

Desmond whistled through his teeth. The Renalia? He’d heard about that building  _ right next to Central Park _ . It must cost a fortune to live there, so either Alex was being a drunk liar or his shoes had for real been hand-made by some Italian designer.

It wasn’t hard to take the chance, so Desmond followed Alex’ wonky steps over to the lamp post.

“Not the tube then? I guess, if you live at the Renalia… Cab then? Or should I call your limousine?” Desmond was just poking some good-natured fun at him, but Alex seemed to be caught in a telepathic bond with the asphalt below his feet.

“Alex?”

 

“I’m gonna pass out.” he informed the bartender, oddly at peace with the fact he was going to be robbed and stabbed because he was about to sleep on the sidewalk. Maybe that would be a better way to go than being shot in the head by the people he worked for. Those sick fucks. They’d have nothing without him, his work was worth billions, his mind more. And they thought they could keep him like a dog on a leash?

Maybe he should call Dana, see if she’d found something already...or maybe he should take the sidewalk’s siren call of an invitation.

 

Finding himself blessed with quick reflexes, Desmond found himself furthermore blessed with an armful of unconscious, handsome guy. Despite his smaller statue, Alex wasn’t exactly a feather and Desmond was glad when the next cab he waved at stopped nearby for him to pull him with him onto the backseat.

“The, uh, Renalia.” Desmond said and got a questioning look through the rear mirror from the driver. No comment though so that was that.

Alex was still breathing, he checked that regularly. The guy had downed five Shirley Templars after his four scotches, he was probably out for good for now.

Kinda odd to be holding a grown man in his arms on the backseat of a cab, but Alex’ form was warm and this way, he got to look at his features from up close. Desmond had been told he had a pretty face plenty of times and he accepted it well, but if he thought pretty in combination with a guy, something more like Alex came to mind. Defined features, long lashes, fine, dark hair and those piercing eyes that were currently closed.

It was weird to keep staring at a guy just because he was good looking so Desmond tried to look away, only to have his gaze drawn back again and again. Lucky the man was sleeping or things would’ve gotten really weird.

The car stopped in front of the Renalia and Desmond realized he had no money on him. Hastily, he felt around on Alex, under his jacket, pockets on the outside and the inside before he made the right connection and assumed it to be in his ass pocket. Where else, really? 

It was stuck there, wedged into the tight space of jeans probably worth Desmond’s entire wardrobe. With some grabbing and pulling he got it out and managed to hand the cab driver a good tip before he got Alex out of the cab.  There had been keys to the apartment, too, and luckily there was a floor number on them.

After what felt like eternity of dragging, carrying and bridal-styling, he had Alex in his own apartment and deposited him on the bed.

 

Alex got a good thirty minutes of sleep to clear the worst of his alcohol haze. It was comfortable too, from warm cab to elevator to his bed. He’d like to get home like this more often. He woke up, still fully dressed, lying on top of his own bed. While the comfort was welcoming, the magical journey home was not. He heard someone shuffling around in the other room, his living room.

Quickly, he went to into his en-suite and splashed cold water on his face, which gained him a little more alertness. He got ready to deal with his mysterious intruder as he pulled the door open, only to come face to back with...the bartender?

“Jake? What the fuck are you doing in my house?”

 

Desmond had been looking at the stuff Alex kept in his living room, the designer furniture he did not dare touch, the shelves full of books he did not understand the title of and then a huge blackboard with chemical shit on it.  Was this guy a teacher or something?   
Couldn’t be, teachers didn’t make this much money…

He’d wandered further and discovered a photo of Alex in a lab coat holding some sort of certificate in his hands. Ah, doctor. He didn’t get further because sleeping beauty himself had woken up and sounded slightly pissed.

Desmond raised his hands immediately and turned around. “Hey, I just got here, okay? You’re heavy, I needed to rest after carrying you all the way here, dude. Calm down, I’ll be gone in a second.”

 

Oh. So that’s how he got home. For a split second, Alex wondered if this idiot could possibly be working for someone, maybe even Gentek. But that didn’t add up. They’d been at the bar all night, and Jake had wandered away, left Alex to his own devices. He could have left at any moment, really, and the bartender couldn’t have done shit about it.

Unless the plan was to get him here, in which case, Alex knew a sure fire way to test out the boundaries of intention. It was a stroke of brilliance, really, but what else was there to be expected of him? An agent was bound to reject the offer. A normal person? Well, it was all in Jake’s reaction.

“You wanna suck my dick before you go? Since you came in here and all. You’ve been looking at me all night. Don’t think I didn’t notice. I may be fucked up, but I’m not blind.”

 

Okay. Desmond definitely hadn’t expected a blatant proposition. Had his interest been that obvious?

And yeah, the guy was hot and his wouldn’t be the first dick Desmond ever put in his mouth, but this was going pretty fast.  He mustered Alex for a moment. The man looked at him with his piercing eyes, calculating, demanding and damnit, he really was a sucker for that attitude of his.

Literally, apparently, because he felt himself nod and lick his lips.

“Yeah, kinda do, actually. If you can consent and all that. You’re drunk.” He pointed out, a little awkwardly. It was weird knowing in less than three minutes he’d have his mouth on the man’s dick, and here they were talking like responsible adults.

 

“Do you care? It’ll probably be the most networth you ever put in your mouth, but shit, you got nice lips.” Alex was all for his great idea, and it proved that this wasn’t a man here with a mission. Either that, or Gentek really trained its lackeys to do anything in the line of duty, including taking one for the team.

Alex shrugged out of his jacket, dropping it onto his desk, followed by the hoodie. Kicking off his shoes with no care whatsoever, he jerked his head to indicate Jake should follow him.

“Come on. Shoes off. This is fucking hardwood.”

 

Desmond found himself not caring in both cases, drunken state of the man attached to the dick he’d be sucking and the hardwood case.  He stepped out of his shoes anyway because dick sucking with shoes on was like going to a Halloween party without costume.  Not that Desmond went to any Halloween parties, but it just wasn’t fitting.

 

Alex continued undressing and after the hoodie had come off, actually looked like he could work in some sort of biotech company, perfectly fitting shirt and all. He struggled a bit with the buttons and sat down on the edge of the bed to not lose his balance. Desmond saw his chance.  The man might be good looking, but he was drunk as fuck and Desmond felt like the smoothest guy when he knelt down in front of him, between his legs only to raise his hands and gently bat away Alex’s.

“Let me do that for you.” He asked and undid the buttons without waiting for a reply. Once his shirt was open, Desmond looked up at him while running his hands over pale skin clinging to lean muscle.

He did not stop at the waistline of his pants, instead teased to slip his fingers under it before he went and cupped his hand around Alex’ crotch. Desmond looked up at him, a light grin playing around scarred lips.

“I assure you, I know my way around hard wood.”

 

“Fuck, you’re corny.” There was a hand on his dick and Alex still didn’t know if Jake was just playing along well or if he genuinely wanted this, but with jokes that bad and an expression that eager, it was more likely that this was an undercover hooker than killer.

“Do me a favor and fill your mouth with dick so I don’t have to hear more of that stupid shit.”

Despite his scalding words, he was growing hard under Jake’s touch.

 

Desmond found his joke hilarious, especially because it was bad enough to coax the slightest of wavers in Alex’ unimpressed face. That was enough for Desmond to understand he had thought it at least somewhat funny.

“You a scientist or something?” It was just small talk at this point, while Desmond worked his jeans open to reveal tight black shorts that probably cost more than Desmond had earned tonight.

He managed to pull Alex’ jeans over his ass, but the guy wouldn't allow more so he'd have to make do with what he got. Which was plenty. Despite his sharp tongue, Alex seemed to enjoy the prospect of having Desmond’s attention on his dick. Under expensive soft fabric, it was half hard already and he hadn't even really applied himself to it. Desmond looked up at him, saw the annoyance and th impatience and wondered why he found it so irresistible on this guy. Alex glaring at him demandingly made his own dick hard like nothing else. Weird, but Desmond wasn't going to question it, not now when the icy expression wavered ever so slightly when Desmond pressed his lips against the hardening outline of what was beneath his underwear.

 

“...I’m a fucking doctor. Didn’t see the phD on the wall?” Alex moved his hands to Jake’s head, tugging him forward. He really didn’t want to hear him speak anymore, even if the whole hard wood thing had been kind of funny. Not that he laughed out loud, but it had tugged at some part of him that he didn’t like to think about.

 

“Nah, but I'm feeling your PhD pressed against my face alright.” Desmond commented, muffled, even if chances were high Alex would suffocate him in his crotch for it.

Worth it and also, what a way to go.  Maybe it was some masochistic streak of his to pleasure an asshole (not the literal kind, yet), or maybe he just wanted to see that sneer turn into a cloudy, needy haze, but there had been few that turned him on like this guy.

Desmond decided that he had annoyed Alex enough and hooked his fingers into the waistline of his shorts to pull them down and reveal his dick. It wasn't the biggest cock Desmond had ever seen, but it fit the entirety of Alex pretty well. Before Alex could burn him with another scathing comment, Desmond enclosed it in his hand and took the tip into his mouth, giving him a hearty little suck.

 

Finally they were getting down to the important part of their situation. The bartender was much more attractive with dick in his mouth, though Alex wouldn’t settle for a little sucking on the end of it. Before the end of the night, he’d ram his cock down Jake’s throat. Let’s see who made funny comments then.

His hands landed on the short, cropped brown hair. There wasn’t enough of it to get a good hold, but Alex made do, cupping the back of Jake’s head and pushing him forward.

“Come on. This your first time?”

 

Desmond would have protested, but Alex was ruthless in his demands and left him no choice but to make a declining hum around the dick in his mouth. 

It definitely wasn't his first time sucking cock, but it was his first time serving a guy like Alex. It became clear pretty quickly that that was what Alex thought about it and Desmond, finding himself having to swallow more of it than he'd originally planned, surprised himself by actually enjoying it.

He took him into his mouth as far as he could without throwing up and when Alex’ grip loosened for a moment, he pulled back up, unable to keep himself from coughing.

“Jesus, you treating your girlfriend like this, too?”

Not that Desmond wanted girlfriend treatment, he was aware this was a one time thing. Alex probably just needed to live out some urges that a regular straight relationship wouldn't give him. That was kinda hot, to be honest.

Desmond held his breath and took him back into his mouth, focusing on not throwing up when Alex would undoubtedly push his dick down his throat.

 

Alex didn’t really wanna dignify that with a response, so he didn’t. Instead, the mouthy bartender found himself with dick in the back of his throat and a happy growl from the man it belonged to. If there were any teeth in his future, he didn’t care.  There was something intrinsically satisfying about fucking someone’s mouth as if it was his personal hole. It was gratifying as hell.

He grabbed the dark hair on Jake’s head, pulling him closer.

“I’m gonna come down your throat, and you’re gonna like it, blowjob lips.”

 

The comment with the slight growl to it gave Desmond a shiver of pleasure strong enough for his skin to react with goosebumps. Alex was fucking intense, literally, because whilst Desmond was fighting with his gag reflex he was also trying to not suffocate. His hands came up to find something to brace himself on in Alex’ thighs. The muscles in them flexed perfectly in rhythm with his cock sliding deeper into Desmond’s mouth.

Alex using him for his own pleasure was something Desmond had never experienced, with nobody. The guy was so full of himself he throat-fucked a man he'd just met, just like that, as if it was his goddamn right to do so.

And Desmond found it ridiculously hot, enough for his own dick to be straining in the tight environment of his nice-guy-pants he wore to work.

Had someone told him he'd get off on having an arrogant rich fuck shoving his dick down Desmond’s throat, he would have flipped them a massive bird or punched them straight up. But now...

 

Alex kept his promise, which was a first because his word usually meant nothing to the world at large. But this one, he could fulfill, and he spilled himself down the bartender’s throat with no word of warning or remorse. A wet, hot mouth to fuck after drinking himself silly was the perfect way to spend the night and forget that the world was a shitty place to be.

Sated, he patted blowjob lips’ head, dick spent and getting soft in his mouth.

“Good boy.”

His praise was a mockery of affection.

 

Desmond wasn’t being given a choice and it wasn’t all that surprising considering the guy he’d agree to blow.  It was his own fault that there was spunk somewhere halfway down to his stomach and he could be happy it hadn’t gotten in his windpipe, to be fair.  Alex’ vice grip on his head loosened, but Desmond felt if he was going to pull back rapidly, something was bound to come back up with it.  He felt dizzy, even more so when he finally let Alex’ dick slide out from between his lips, just when the guy decided to open his mouth and say a thing that made Desmond’s dick twitch.

Okay, being into called a ‘good boy’ like some sort of filthy dog that just performed a trick really well, that was new, too. Alex was providing him with a whole new array of things to find hot. Desmond found himself out of breath, slightly nauseous, but most of all, fucking horny.

 

Alex smirked down at him and put his dick away, while Desmond watched him closely, let his eyes trail over perfect cheekbones and the small slice of exposed skin where his shirt was open and revealed the middle of his torso. Kneeling down in front of him felt like the appropriate response to a guy like him, but hell, this wasn’t 50 Shades of Gay, this was Desmond’s fling with a hot stranger! 

He shifted his weight, rubbed his palms over Alex’ thighs, then moved his hands to grab the underside of them and pulled him towards him while at the same time sitting up. Bending over Alex on the bed, Desmond’s grin returned.

“Damn, Alex, I’ve dealt with your PhD, what about mine?”

 

“I don’t care, go jerk off on the subway like you usually do, Jake.” Alex pointedly added the name, eyebrow arched as he looked up at the bartender. He looked a little sly, and definitely very turned on. What kind of gay asshole got so turned on from sucking dick? Alex wouldn’t be caught dead doing that, let alone enjoying it.

“Get your twenty dollar ass off of my Egyptian cotton.”

 

It had been clear from the get-go that Alex wasn’t someone to easily give in to persuasion, especially not of the sexy kind. Desmond wasn’t used to having to do much seduction, his good looks and charming smile usually did everything for him. Not so with this guy, he had a hard shell and the prospect of cracking it just a little bit was everything on Desmond’s mind.  Instead of following the order, Desmond moved his hands to his shoulders, effectively pinning him on the bed.

There were two options with this guy. Funny, how it always came down to those, but Desmond knew that either he wanted to be almost forced to or he wanted to be begged for it. Both prospects weren’t exactly familiar to Desmond, but in a pinch he preferred the latter. He’d rather beg than feel like a rapist.

Also, Alex was a treat. Like some sort of drug of which you knew it would fuck you up and leave you on the verge of insanity after, but promised you the best high you would ever experience in your measly little life. He leaned down to let the tip of his nose and his lips meet the pale skin of Alex’ stomach region that was presented to him so nicely.

Almost reverently, he placed a small kiss there, before he looked up to meet his eyes.

“Please?”

 

Alex groaned. This guy was pretty strong, must be from all that hard labor lifting bottles. He was definitely pinning him easily, and that ate away at Alex’ pride, but he let it happen, for now.

He glared down at the puppy dog eyes.

"Please what? What’s on your mind?”

He was not getting on his knees, but maybe he’d throw the guy a careless handjob if that got him out of the door faster. A sloppy, quick one.

 

Instead of giving him a verbal answer, Desmond took the absence of a clearly stated ‘no’ for a tentative yes and moved further on the bed, more on top of Alex. Bracing himself on one arm that firmly held down Alex’ and kept him from rolling away, he pulled the white shirt over one shoulder, revealing milky skin that he immediately applied his lips to.  Hungry kisses and little nips he trailed down the slender body beneath him while at the same time encroaching more onto Alex, slowly squeezing his legs apart as he fit himself between them, still kneeling.

Slightly out of breath still (or again?), Desmond came back up to lean over him entirely.  His hand moved to reach for the back of Alex’ neck to cup his head as he claimed his lips with the same hunger he’d shown before.

Only for a moment though, then Desmond pulled back ever so slightly.

“There’s only one thing on my mind, Alex.” 

He murmured against wet lips, “Let me fuck you.”

 

Alex wasn’t much of a kisser, but when a guy was all over you, shit like that slid by without a fight. Jake was pretty built, and heavy, which he supposed meant there was some muscle mass under the baggy, cheap clothes.

And he wouldn’t mind seeing it.

That’s when Jake’s words arrived in his brain and Alex had to take a moment to process the meaning. Fuck him? Huh. So that was the intention of stripping him slowly. Surprisingly, he didn’t find himself in utter disgust at the idea. Actually, it might be good. It would really put the world at a distance, and this guy wasn’t ugly. Kinda ambiguously ethnic, but Alex liked that.

“Yeah? You got a big cock to do that with? I don’t fuck with baby dicks.”

 

“Me neither.” Desmond assured him, unable to keep his lips from stretching into an excited little grin. That had been kinda easy, he’d expected more resistance, really.

Alex kissed like he wanted to eat him, with not much care and lots of teeth. Desmond loved sloppy kisses, so it was great. And besides, now that he’d somewhat agreed to taking it up his high-society ass, he could be kissing like a schoolgirl and it’d still be a turn-on.

Desmond pulled back and let go off him, but only to pull hoodie and shirt over his head in one go. Didn’t matter that the damn hoodie had a zipper, it needed to come off, fast. His handsome face came with a handsome body that luckily didn’t need much training to look acceptably sculpted for a bartender. Alex probably liked what he saw because he didn’t protest when Desmond leaned down again to rid him off his shirt only to bear down on him again once it was gone.

Alex felt great beneath him, their bodies lined up, Desmond’s very interested dick pressing into Alex’ crotch.   He gave him a roll of his hips, a tentative glance at what he’d have inside of him soon enough, all the while watching Alex’ reaction.

“Think you can take it?” Desmond hummed, next to his ear now, the smile playing around his lips audible in his voice.

 

“Not without lube you piece of shit,” Alex snapped, but he wasn’t actually as full of acid as he gave off. He’d found out very quickly that men who slept with men got turned on by insults faster than anything else, and it didn’t take much effort to apply that rule of thumb to reality. It was second nature for Alex to verbally strip down anyone in his presence whom he didn’t have to respect.

Alex also knew that the cock rubbing up against him was a decent size and would hurt like hell without any aid or prep. If Jake wanted to be a big man and fuck him, he would damn well get down to preparing Alex.

“Check the drawer.”

 

Desmond did his best to not scramble towards the drawer. Yes, he wanted to fuck Alex badly, his dick was informing him about that every ten seconds, but he couldn’t look like a bumbling buffoon, not on this Egyptian cotton.

Also, he was going to be in charge now, Alex could insult him all he wanted, but he was the one getting stuffed tonight.

Instead of following the order, Desmond pulled Alex’ pants down over his knees and off of him, leaving him in an attractive state of undress on the bed, ready to be ravaged, so to say.

“Ah yes, the drawer.” Desmond drawled when Alex glared at him, for which he just got an easy-going grin in return. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had fun like this.

When he got up for the drawer, he made sure to step out of his shoes, socks and pants, leaving on the shorts for now which at this point didn’t really hide anything much.

Inside of the nightstand he found some empty condom wrappers and lube. Deciding to make do with what he had, Desmond retrieved the lube and returned to Alex on the bed.

 

Alex was waiting impatiently for the few seconds it took for Jake to move his ass. His toned ass. Damn it, he was kind of hot. Especially now that he wasn’t wearing those cheap rags he called clothes anymore.

When he returned with only lube though, Alex’ impatient scowl turned into a sneer.

“You serious? Get a fucking condom. Who knows where you’ve been.”

 

Desmond chuckled. “Calm down, dude. You’re out, but I got some. Uptight guy like you probably needs a lot of prep anyway, can’t let the rubber dry out.”

It wasn’t even a lie, he did have condoms with him at almost all times after that disastrous no-rubber one night stand with some girl who, after they’d done the deed, had ensured him she was definitely pregnant now.

Not that Alex could get pregnant, but well, money wasn’t exactly an effective protection against STDs.

Desmond reached out to grab him by the shoulders, only to lean in for another one of those deliciously sloppy kisses before he turned Alex around under him.

He had a narrow back and the bones of his spine were visible bumps on the back of his neck and between his shoulder. Desmond found them ridiculously hot and pressed his lips to them, letting his hands wander down Alex’ sides with some gusto to get a good grip on his hips and pull him back.

With his firm ass pressed nicely against his hard cock, Desmond groaned, sounding pleased.

“You’re such a treat, Alex, holy shit. Sour one, but still hot. Fuck.”

 

He hooked his fingers into Alex’ shorts and pulled them over his ass, only to lean over him and squarely kiss him on the left buttcheek, hands fumbling with the lube.

Once he had his fingers all slicked up, Desmond didn’t waste much time before he pressed the first one into Alex, gently, but relentless in his demand.

Alex was going to get fucked and he was going to love it, Desmond promised that to himself silently.

 

At least Jake wasn’t wasting time. Alex groaned a little as the finger went in without any preamble, but he let it slide in favor of trying to relax his body and accept the intrusion. It wasn’t that hard, especially when he didn’t have to mind his expression. Instead, he got to bury his face in his own pillow, which smelled vaguely of his shampoo. Good. He liked being comfortable and at home. Call him spoiled, but he preferred not to be the one riding the cab of shame back to his place after a good fuck.

Which was what this evening was ramping up to deliver. The thick cock he’d felt earlier would feel like getting split open, and that was exactly on that thin border between pain and pleasure that Alex got off on.

But that would come. First, Jake would have to work a little more delicately to make his wiggling finger feel good.

“Am I supposed to like your sausage finger poking my ass like that?” Alex snarled into the pillow, just barely audible.

 

This guy should probably be annoying the fuck out of him, but Desmond just found him ridiculously hot. Every scalding comment he got went straight to his dick, left  him thirsty for more. Perhaps he was a masochist for guys like Alex. Or just Alex, who knew.

Alex, who had most definitely had something up his ass before, the guy’s ass ate his finger like it was nothing at all.

“You’re supposed to get your ass relaxed so you can enjoy my cock. Thought you wanted to get there fast, but I can make it nice, no problem.”

 

Desmond’s hand moved from Alex’ hip to his ass cheek, squeezing it hard in his palm as he turned his hand to push his finger into him more deeply and curl it upwards. Worked with girls, worked with guys, wasn’t that hard, really.

Sex was probably one of the two things Desmond thought himself good at, the other one being mixing drinks.

How mixing drinks had to do with fingering asses would have to be established later, because Alex started moving his lower body and Desmond had to hold him down to add a second finger.

“You’re good, damn, Alex. Just like that?”

Of course he wouldn’t like it, of course he would growl some sort of derogatory comment at him and Desmond was so ready for it.

 

“I’m good. Come on, I don’t have all night. Got work in the morning.” Alex snapped, impatient, hungry. Jake was a damn tease with his fingers and it wasn’t Alex’s first rodeo, so he knew his boundaries and limitations. And when he should relentlessly push them aside.

“Get your dick in me, fucking loser,” he hissed through his teeth when Jake just scissored his fingers a little to test the tight ring of muscle.

 

Alex’ voice had that hungry ring to it that made Desmond grab his ass harder and push his fingers more deeply into him, before he finally withdrew them. 

Once again, he leaned over him to kiss his shoulder, his hard cock pressing against Alex’ ass. That feeling alone was divine, but Desmond knew how to not lose himself in pleasure too easily acquired. No, this was just to tease Alex a little more. He wrapped his arms around him and whispered to his ear,

“What about the rubber, huh? I’d have to go get it. What’s the verdict, doctor?” Desmond gave him another little roll of his hips, a little slide of his dick against Alex’ ass that had fire race up his spine.

 

That fucker. Alex forgot all about the lack of condom, between the furious fingers and the heavy grind of that cock on his ass. It felt good, thick, eager. Alex’ mouth was dry as a desert as he pushed his hips back and sighed with barely restrained desire.  He wanted it. He wanted it bad, and that asshole bartender was making him wait. 

Alex arched his back, stuck his hips up a little more, and he could feel the sweat-damp slide of skin on skin.

“Jake, I’m not fucking kidding,” he rasped, breath growing short.

 

“ _ Fuck _ .” Desmond brought out, excitement pulsing through him. This guy was unreal, probably the best catch he’d ever made. Desmond was going to be so good to him if he needed him this bad.   
Now free of the burden of finding a condom somewhere in his hoodie or his pants, Desmond made quick use of the lube again only to get his dick ready.

He pulled Alex back by the thighs, urging them apart just a little so he could position himself. One hand on Alex’ ass, spreading him open nicely, Desmond slowly pushed forward into him. The sensation was almost overwhelming after what had felt like an eternity of waiting and Desmond heard himself groan.

Instead of losing himself to the feeling, he powered through it and kept on pushing himself into Alex until he could hold onto his hips with both of his hands. In one quick motion, he pulled Alex flush against him, making both of them moan.

Desmond allowed him a quick moment of adjustment before he drew back and thrust back into him, slowly at first, but steadily increasing the pace.

 

It was quick, it was kind of painful, and Alex relished every second of it. Jake was thick and hard and pushing in so fast that Alex forgot how to breathe. There was no gentle slide, no reassuring petting, none of the nonsense his other one night stands had tried on him.

Good. Alex had fistfuls of his sheets and he made no effort to stifle the rough moan and curse that slipped from his lips.

“Fucking shitbag, you wanna tear me open?” He snapped again, body trembling ever so slightly as he pushed back against Jake’s dick. It was a good one, he decided.

 

Having Alex on his hands and knees, ass up and split open by his own cock was the ultimate fantasy Desmond didn’t even know he had. He was fucking him deliberately, with eager, hard thrusts that had the bed knock against the nightstand ever so slightly. Sure, he’d had good fucks before, but Alex was currently topping it all just by being himself, a total asshole that submitted to him willingly.

Desmond clawed into his ass at the comment, pulling out quite a bit before he slammed himself back in, cursing as he did so.

“Kinda do.” He admitted, voice husky, “God, you like cock, don’t you? Fuck,  _ Alex _ .”

 

Again, Desmond fell into fucking him hard and fast into the mattress, holding his hips still in an iron grip.

Only when Alex was audibly breathless, he allowed him a little break, and leaned over him, bringing his chest down on Alex’ back. It felt good to press close to him like this, both of their heated up, sweat-slick bodies, to bear down on him and pin him on his own bed with his weight.

Desmond kissed his shoulder again, ran his teeth along the skin, nipping it, hands running over Alex’ shoulders. His quick thrusts had turned into slow rolls of his hips. He nuzzled his nose into Alex’ dark hair, following the same whim that also had him whisper,

“Jake’s made up. My name’s Desmond.”

 

Of course it was a lie. Jake didn’t really do that cock and hips any justice. Desmond? Desmond sounded like a white piece of toast with some almond butter sprinkled on. Alex didn’t really care for his name, as long as he kept suffocating Alex beneath his weight. It was just something else, to be held down by a man, to be pressed into the mattress, face down, ass up, getting fucked.

Some part of Alex thought he was utterly sick for craving this the way he did. The rest of him merrily gave that part the finger and reminded Alex how fucking good it was to come thanks to your prostate.

“Great,” he gasped out with the slim bit of breath he had left, “I don’t care. Fuck me harder. I’m falling asleep.”

 

“Damn, gotta do something about that, huh?” Desmond commented, not really surprised by the harsh answer. His name was only one of his best kept secrets, alongside with his heritage maybe, but Alex didn’t care. Of course he didn’t.  It was too perfect.

He snuck his arms under Alex’, held onto his shoulders that way and began railing him in earnest. Forehead pressed against his back, Desmond didn’t care if the bed was going to fall apart or if the weird designer lamp on the nightstand was going to hit the floor and break. As long as they both came, and he would make sure of that, it was all worth it. 

Alex seemed to like being held down, almost suffocated, so Desmond moved one hand to hold onto his throat, just holding on, no squeezing, to see how he liked that.

 

Alex felt so slim beneath him, oddly fragile for a guy, and yet he demanded to be fucked harder with every fiber of his being. Even if they’d never see each other again after this, Desmond was sure he wasn’t going to forget the demanding nature of this man that forced you to bend down to his attractiveness and do his bidding.

Even now that he was fucking him, Alex ultimately held the reins in hand. Desmond was just keen on not letting him find out for as long as possible. Or maybe he already knew. It didn’t really matter.

 

Desmond was fucking him like a stud and Alex congratulated himself on his unintentional pickup for the night. He was lucky to find exactly the kind of hopeless, hot idiot that would follow him home and do whatever Alex wanted, all night, before being kicked out before breakfast.

The hand on his throat had him buck under Desmond. It wasn’t gripping him, just sort of holding, but the pressure of it against his skin, his adam’s apple, it was intense. Alex felt all of his senses hone in on where Desmond was connected to him. His ass felt great, full, his stomach burned with the beginnings of an orgasm and his blood was pulsing thickly under Desmond’s touch.

“Yeah, that’s good. Keep going. Harder.” He demanded, voice rising with every thrust.

 

Desmond didn’t really have time to listen to all of the obscenities Alex came up with, but they were sure to make his blood turn into liquid fire and for the heat to pool in his stomach.

He moaned, cursed, but Alex was the avid dirty talker between them. What Desmond could do for him though was make use of the little hint he’d gotten earlier.

Alex enjoyed being forced, loved being handled and shoved around, so whilst he was still fucking him hard enough now for the bed to make the lamp on the nightstand wobble, Desmond closed the grip on his throat, just a little bit.

“Let me hear it, doctor.” Desmond said into his ear, voice ragged, “You’re gonna come, aren’t you?”

 

Yep, that was the fucking ticket. Alex didn’t care what happened or that the lights were on or that his bed was creaking loudly, he was yowling his pleasure before Desmond could even get an actual, verbal response from him. He was already being pounded into the mattress, he really had no incentive to hold on a second longer than he needed to. 

He supposed somewhere in the mess, he did moan an obedient yes, but he mostly drooled into his pillow, arched his back and came all over his sheets.

There was nothing like a good bit of cock when you craved it, and Alex’ needs had been sated. That, incidentally, was also where his enthusiasm for the encounter would end, as soon as he came down from his high and his toes stopped curling.

 

Luckily for Desmond, he wasn’t one to really hold on after he’d fucked someone to oblivion and followed Alex right over the edge, with no brain to pull out or whatever.

He’d surely hear it for that one, but it was worth it when he spilled himself deep inside of the hottest guy in all of NYC. The hottest guy in NYC who was a fucking screamer when he came. Listening to filthy words moaned and growled made Desmond’s own orgasm all the better.

When Alex was done though, he was sort of boneless, laying on the bed, face down and Desmond didn’t get a reaction out of him when he kissed his shoulder.

Only when he sat up to pull out, Alex moved a tiny little bit.

“You okay?” Desmond asked, somewhat worried as he went to fish for his shorts. Alex sure as hell wouldn’t want a cuddle session.

 

An unintelligible moan was Desmond’s answer. Alex had not moved, at all, and he wouldn’t even do so much as lift his head. The fuck had been amazing, and now he was done with his evening. What Desmond did now did not matter to Alex.

A pressing matter that he couldn’t ignore, however, was the need for the bathroom. He shook off Desmond’s probing touch and rolled off of the bed, landing on his feet and cursing the stains on the sheets.

"Shit man, Egyptian cotton.” he muttered as he headed off to the bathroom, ignorant of Desmond’s continued presence.

 

Desmond was left a little indecisive, watched Alex on his way to the bathroom.

A quick glance to the clock revealed that it was three in the morning and while nightly endeavors weren't something Desmond disliked, the Egyptian cotton, even with the stains, seemed more inviting than some trip home to his probably smelly flat across the city. Besides, Desmond had never seen Central Park from up high like this except for Google Maps and he bet the sunrise looked amazing.

Right now though, Egyptian cotton won over awesome sunrise and so, Desmond crawled back under the sheets. The stains were on top anyway so it didn't even matter. He'd stay until Alex kicked him out.

 

Alex re-emerged from the bathroom, a sleeping man walking. He said nothing about the lump on the side of the bed and also ignored the stains on his sheets.

He crawled into bed and promptly passed out, hopefully for a couple of hours of dreamless sleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some nsfw to liven the spirit ID


	3. Chapter 3

At six in the morning, his shrill alarm went off. Alex groaned and slammed a hand on the device, which had known a few rough awakenings in its short lifetime. It kept beeping, however, until Alex opened his eyes and punched it off of the nightstand.

 

Only then did he notice the warmth at his back and the heavy arm over his waist. With his mind sluggish, he pushed the arm off of himself. Too lazy to identify his bed companion, he went to the closet to get dressed, making no effort to be quiet about it. With pants and socks on, he finally paid attention to the lump.

 

“Hey. Asshole. Come on, get up, I got work to do.”

 

Desmond was not a morning person. It wasn’t even his nightly lifestyle that could be blamed for the fact, he’d always hated to get up for early morning drills and training before dawn.

Ten minutes ago, everything had been nice and peaceful, some warm person to encroach on and hold in his arm in a very comfortable bed, and now he was being insulted before he’d even opened his eyes.

 

The last night came back to him, drunk Alex, sleeping Alex, naked Alex, fucking Alex.

With a groan, Desmond rolled over and managed to pry his eyes apart only to be greeted with his now half-way dressed bed companion for the night.

“G’mornin to you, too, doctor.”

 

He sat up and rubbed his eyes, then watched Alex get dressed in a shirt. THis was kinda nice. Kinda like Desmond imagined mornings would look like when he had some sort of partner.

 

“Is this you kicking me out?” He managed to ask, drowsy still. It probably was, he just wanted to make sure. You never knew with this guy.

 

“You’re damn right it is.” Alex left his shirt unbuttoned as he picked up Desmond’s jeans and threw them on the bed. He was washing the sheets anyway. Or rather, bring them to the dry cleaner’s. He used to have a cleaning lady who came by twice a week, but since his suspicions about his employer, he cut out any people he didn’t know from his life.

 

“You got five minutes to get your ass out of my bed.”

 

Alex looked damn fine in his current attire, business clothes casually, loosely hanging on him. He wasn’t wearing a belt either yet. Desmond wondered if he could work the fly open with just his teeth.

But then again, Alex was kicking him out. Or trying to.

 

“Damn, that’s cold. But okay. Five minutes.”

 

He checked the clock on the nightstand, then laid back down on the bed, sighing happily. Desmond didn’t close his eyes and continue to doze, instead he watched Alex walk around and get dressed. The guy was just hot. As long as he could, he’d look at him until Alex would definitely kick him out. Because there was no other option here. Guys like Alex had a girlfriend, they wouldn’t want their side piece to hang around longer than absolutely necessary.

 

“She doesn’t live here, does she?” Desmond asked, thinking about the girlfriend. Nothing looked like anything that belonged to a woman, “You live here all alone?”

 

“Of course.” Alex finished buttoning up, not at all caring enough for a tie or jacket. On top of his usual shirt, he pulled a hoodie and the usual leather jacket would do. He might be rich and could afford clothing that had other people go broke over credit cards, but he didn’t need to wear it on the street. Or anywhere else. Suits were for fancy events that he skipped.

 

The mention of Karen did nothing to him. A bunch of her stuff was still inside of his closet, but he ignored it. They’d break up soon, he could tell. She looked away when they fucked, he was honestly bored of jerking around on top of her. That was no way for a relationship to go, and Alex had no time for the emotional shit that went with it.

 

“Two minutes.”

 

Desmond sighed.

“Alright, alright.”

 

He got up as well, fishing for his clothes spread somewhere around the bed. Alex had moved to the other side of the room and Desmond snuck another glance at him. He’d learned early on that one night stands weren’t really morning-after cuddlers and since Alex wasn’t a cuddler at all, Desmond doubted that he’d even get so much as a quick good-bye hug or kiss.

 

One and a half minutes later, Alex had tailed him to the door, probably to make sure he really left. Desmond didn’t even have time for the bathroom or anything, not to speak of showering, before he’d crossed the doorstep.

 

Hands in his pocket, Desmond turned to him.

“Guess you know where to find me if you’re up for round two. So uh… see ya, Alex. ”

 

“Yeah, right. Bye.”

 

Alex shut the door, if only so he wouldn’t have the uncomfortable experience of taking the lift with his one night stand. Bad enough he’d slept with some randy bartender from god knows where. He didn’t have to do half a walk of shame past the concierge as well.

 

He left his apartment ten minutes later, once he was sure Desmond would be gone. He was going to return to his usual routine, without a single thought wasted on the memories of last night. Except for his ass, which hurt in a good, sore way.

 

-x-

 

A week passed and Alex found himself in the stupid bar once more. It had been a spur of the moment decision to go in, he wasn’t here for the bartender or anything like that; no, he just wanted, needed, a drink.

 

Desmond had been busy in the backroom, trying to unwrap a new charge of cocktail glasses (that they needed badly at this point), but when he returned to the bar he was both surprised and pleased to spot a familiar face. Or rather, hoodie and leather jacket, because Alex wasn’t really showing his face, just like the last time.

 

Hannah nodded at Alex and drew up her eyebrows in question, Desmond shrugged and sent her an easy grin. She didn’t have to know what they’d been up to after he’d gotten Alex home.

 

“What’s it gonna be for you tonight, stranger?” He addressed Alex, giving him a jolly little smile. During the past week he’d wondered if telling Alex his name had been a mistake, but so far nothing had happened and Desmond didn’t think anything would, not at this point.

 

“Shirley Templar, but make it a double.” Alex didn’t doubt that Desmond was feeling smug right now, and he’d give him that little victory, considering he was physically here again.

But the drinks were cheap and good, that was all.

 

Alex looked up and saw Desmond’s smile. Some part of him jolted a little. It wasn’t just smug, it was warm. Welcoming on a very, very personal level. Huh. That...wasn’t that bad. Because of him? It was strange.

 

For a moment, Desmond wondered about the surprise in Alex’ eyes and asked himself what was going on behind that pretty face of his.

He wouldn’t find out, for sure, but seeing Alex and his blue, blue eyes made his evening.

 

“Coming right up. You planning on getting wasted again?” He asked casually. With a little bit of luck, they wouldn’T get a wagonload of people tonight, meaning that there was plenty of time to charm his way into Alex’ good graces, his Egyptian cotton sheets and hopefully his tight ass.

Desmond wouldn’t mind just blowing him again, Alex had rarely left his mind and he’d probably jerked it one too many times to the memory of Alex throat-fucking him.

 

The drink was mixed quickly and this time, Desmond gave him a toothpick with two cherries on top instead of the usual glitter.

 

It was still kind of a girly drink, but Alex was here for alcohol content, not his macho exterior. Which wasn’t really there to begin with. He hung around his previous seat at the bar, watching Desmond tend to other patrons and make smalltalk. While Desmond was busy, Alex found time to assess him. His memory of the man had been tarnished with the sour note of a hangover, but now, in the mostly sober state he was in, he had to admit that Desmond was, by all standards, hot. Tanned but not orange, dark haired and eyed without looking ratty. He was tall too, and broad. Alex remembered how heavy he was, and how hard he could fuck. Those were plus points.

 

And yes, maybe Alex was here to repeat that.

 

When the other bartender working, or waitress or whatever, came to him and his empty glass, he shot her a sneer.

 

“No. Get him.”

 

Hannah’s eyebrows were sure to meet her hairline at that. She raised her hands, known and liked for her attitude, even with patrons.

“Suuure. His name is Jake, you know.”

 

Alright, maybe she was a bit annoyed that Jake seemed to get laid every other day and he didn’t stop at the hot girls, no, he also took the hot guys home. And this one was obviously here for a repeat.

 

She walked over to Jake and nudged him in the side.

“Your... friend wants you to tend to him. I’m not allowed to serve his needs or whatever.”

 

That had Desmond snort. “Did he say that?” Trust Alex to be a dick, 24/7.

Hannah shook her head though and took over his lemon to cut without further questions, leaving Desmond to deal with Alex.

 

Which he did, with a charming smile and another drink prepared for him.

It wasn’t the usual Shirley, this one’s colour was red on top and black on the bottom, with something white in the middle.

“This one’s on the house. I’m trying it out on you.” Desmond didn’t say that he made it for Alex, or that the colour scheme reminded him of his jacket, because that was cheesy.

 

“If I get sick I’m suing,” Alex eyed the drink, and he eyed his bartender. Today, Desmond was wearing something a little tighter, a black shirt that did all sorts of good things to his arms, and Alex appreciated the view.

 

Those lips sure looked inviting, and he felt his throat grow dry. Yeah, okay. He needed another fuck, and from the way Desmond smiled at him, he was bound to get one.

 

He sucked on the drink. It wasn’t half bad. And it definitely looked like someone had taken inspiration from his preferred trio of colors.

 

“Terrible. Way too sweet.” he smirked, but his humor was usually a touch too dark or cynical for anyone to pick up on.

 

Desmond, however, somehow got it. Alex’ comments made his face light up and his smile turn into a grin. He even chuckled and reached out to take the glass away from him, but Alex pulled it out of his reach.

 

“Need the evidence for suing, huh?” He commented, brushing his hand over Alex’ on the counter. It was supposed to look like an accident, which it really wasn’t.

Alex was wearing the usual attire again, hood up, leather jacket on, but Desmond just wanted to peel him out of it.

 

Desmond had his sleeves rolled up from the washing duty earlier. He didn’t mind people seeing his tattoo, even if it maybe was easier to identify him by. His dad and the others at the Farm didn’t know he’d gotten it, it was some sort of symbol to him, a symbol of freedom away from the cult thing they had going on.

 

“So, what’s it gonna be? Getting wasted, doctor? Because I know just the medicine to prescribe for that.”

 

“Oh? Did you get a medical degree since I kicked you out?” Alex sipped on the drink again. There was some note of aniseed in there, which he supposed suited the black heart of his soul. Desmond was pretty good at describing people through alcohol, apparently.

 

And he also was pretty good at making Alex thirst for something other than sweet cocktails.

 

Desmond looked at him from the corner of his eyes as he reached for one of the new glasses to polish before sorting them into the shelf behind him.

 

When Alex drank, and he did so greedily, Desmond had a great visual of his neck. It made his memories return, the ones where his hand had been firmly on this neck, the way Alex had bucked under him like he just couldn’t help himself.

The thought circled in his head for a moment, but he managed to wrangle it back where it belonged. If he didn’t watch out his latent horniness would get the better of him…

 

“Not exactly, but you sure helped me along with my PHD last time.” Desmond couldn’t help the cheeky grin to go with the comment.

  
  


“Huh. So what are you prescribing for your own, perpetual thirst,  _ Jake _ ?” Alex didn’t really care why Desmond was using a fake name, or why his coworkers didn’t even know his identity. Maybe he was in debt and hiding, maybe he was a drifter.

What mattered to Alex was whether or not he could get another night of satisfaction out of him.

 

“Hm, let’s see…” Desmond pretended to think about it as he finished polishing the glass and sorted it into the shelf. Joking around with Alex was pretty entertaining and the latent suggestive nature of their conversation was also kinda hot. As if they both knew how the night was going to end.

Alex wasn’t so much of a cold asshole anymore. Actually, he was kind of funny in his own deadly, frosty way.

 

He turned around, frowning, pretending to be worried. “Gosh darn it, I don’t remember, doctor. Perhaps you could give me private tutoring again?”

 

“Pass me a bottle of scotch and I’ll think about it.” Alex beckoned to the top shelf. Colorful cocktails were one thing, a good scotch was another. Tonight, he didn’t want to be out of his mind. He already had a plan in mind that would wipe him out and put him to sleep, and this playful banter was the prelude.

 

“You do look like the kind of guy who can only pass a class by sucking a dick or two.”

 

“Nothing wrong with that.” Desmond answered, finding the casual banter with Alex thoroughly entertaining. He reached for the mentioned bottle of scotch and got a glass for Alex (no ice, he remembered) to pour some in that he put on the counter in front of him.

Their eyes met and Desmond grinned slyly.

“How do you think I finished high school, huh?”

 

“Depends. Is it still the same technique? Because I had to do half of it myself last time.” Alex swirled the scotch to allow it to breathe before he took a sip. The rich, deep burn of it was much more grounding than the heady rush of sugary cocktails, and he appreciated it deeply. At least this was a booty call with good drinks.

 

“I’m willing to let you take another shot at it.”

 

“And I’m willing to take another shot. That is if you can hold out for longer than twenty seconds.” 

Alex’ derogative little noise into the scotch had Desmond chuckle.

 

Oh, this was going to be a great night.

 


	4. Chapter 4

The shrill noise of the alarm had Desmond awake in an instant, but he pretended to still be sleeping when Alex got out of the bed. A few moments later, the shower (rainfall shower!) in the bathroom could be heard and Desmond relaxed. 

At least he got a few minutes more before Alex would inevitably throw him out again and pretend he never wanted to see him again.

 

Standing under the shower didn’t absolve Alex of the weird feeling in his stomach. No matter if he showered hot or cold, it didn’t leave him be. At first, he was sure it would be some kind of ache, or something that was bound to get bad.

 

But it didn’t. He had an odd notion of warmth in him that was both alien and annoying. Was it just because of the decent fuck he’d had? 

 

Stupid. It was stupid.

 

And yet, when he came out of the bathroom, dressed and fresh, Desmond’s presence in his bed did not irritate him as it should.

 

Maybe he was feeling particularly mellow because the sex really had been (bruisingly!) good, but he just stood over his guest and scoffed a little. 

 

“Don’t make a mess. Shut the door when you go. Don’t touch my computer, got it?”

 

Desmond opened one eye when Alex stood right in front of him, freshly showered, looking absolutely delicious. There were some purple marks right where his hip started that were probably his fault from pinning Alex down with some force.

It took him a moment, thanks to morning grogginess and all, to understand what Alex wasn’t saying straight up.

 

When he got it though, both of his eyes opened.

Alex wasn’t kicking him out. He was basically, in his own, gruff way, inviting him to stay. Well, the closest thing he’d ever get to an invitation out of him, anyway.

 

“Uh, yeah. Of course. Computer no touchy. Can I touch myself or is that forbidden until you’re home, master?”

 

Desmond asked with a tired little grin and reached out to grab Alex’ thigh, squeezing it a little. Last night had been amazing and Alex saw it the same way, otherwise he wouldn’T be allowing him to stay.

 

“If you get fucking semen on any of my furniture you’re paying for it.” Alex could get used to being called master, even though he knew Desmond was merely joking. Still, maybe that could be a thing. He was already in control of every aspect of his life, meticulously. This wouldn’t be much of a stretch.

 

“There’s coffee...somewhere. I’m back at nine. If you’re gone or not, I don’t care.”

 

“Right. No touching the computer, no spunk on the furniture. Home at nine.” Desmond repeated. He had a day off and spending it at Alex’ place with a rainfall shower and pay-TV for classy entertainment sounded like a good idea.

He’d just have to find some food, but that shouldn’t be a problem. Perhaps just order a pizza or something.

 

Desmond sat up, mustered Alex. He was sorely tempted to pull him in for some amiable cuddles or maybe a kiss, but the guy would probably dislike it and retract his not-invitation.

“I’ll protect your property, doctor. Happy working.”

One last squeeze to Alex’ thigh, then he was left alone in the bed.

 

-x-

 

By the time Alex got home, he forgot all about his morning.

 

Actually, his mind couldn’t be further from knowing anything about the two night stand. Desmond was supposed to be gone and besides, there was something much more pressing in his life than some hot bartender.

This time, he was  _ sure  _ they were following him. He almost ran past the concierge, taking the stairs in case they got to the lift.

 

By the time he burst into his apartment, he was entirely out of breath and drenched in sweat. Something was making noise and Alex nearly had a heart attack when he realized the TV was on and someone was ON his couch.

 

When Alex burst in, looking as if he’d been chased up the entire staircase, with wild eyes and breathing hard, Desmond’s cheerful expression at his return turned into some frown.

 

“Hey.”

 

Desmond got up, the couch creaked and Alex nearly flinched. What the fuck was up with him?

He raised his hands, almost like you did when you tried to calm a scared animal.

“You okay?” Alex stared at him with those wild eyes and while Desmond found it kind of attractive, he also wondered what kind of psycho this guy could be without him knowing.

 

“It’s just me, okay? No one else, I checked. Been here all day, door’s been closed.”

 

“What the fuck are you still doing here?” Alex locked the door three times behind himself after checking the spyhole. It looked clear, but who knew how long they’d been on his case. Maybe they just followed him on the street to make sure he went home and didn’t leave Manhattan.

 

He shrugged out of his jacket and hoodie, wiping his damp hair out of his face and heading straight for a cabinet stuffed with books and bottles. He didn’t bother pouring out a glass, going straight for the bourbon from the bottle.

 

Desmond watched him guzzle bourbon, watched sweat run over a sharp jawline and down his throat. TV forgotten, he got up and moved closer to Alex. He didn’t touch him just yet, just stood in the general vicinity to check out if the guy would lash out at him or not.

In the short time they’d known each other, Desmond had learned that Alex was effectively a cactus that had a baby with a stinging nettle.

Alex didn’t move away from him though, just continued with the bourbon, so Desmond closed in on him as long as he was distracted and reached for the buttons of his pearl white shirt. The fabric was damp with sweat.

 

“Did you run all the way up here?” Desmond asked, voice warm as he unbuttoned it, pulling the hem out of his pants.

  
  


“I don’t remember inviting you to live with me,” Alex snapped, but he offered no resistance to the way Desmond was undressing him. He noticed the bottle of bourbon was shaking in his hand so he slammed it down on the shelf again, a little hard maybe, but it didn’t break.

 

His eyes were no longer wide and panicked, but that didn’t mean he lost the dark rings and sallow skin on his face. 

“And yes.”

 

Alex had been weird before, Desmond remembered the night they met and the eye he’d had to keep on the guys at the Bad Weather.

He hadn’t thought much about it, but seeing Alex now, like this, kinda made it crystal clear.

 

The guy had a hefty case of paranoia going on. How had he not noticed earlier? Everything made so much more sense now. The way Alex sought escape in either alcohol or sex, the way he never seemed to rest unless he’d had at least one of the two. The triple locks on his door.

 

Compassion wasn’t something Desmond felt too often, but its warmth spread in his chest quickly. He knew what that felt like, he’d felt it for a great deal of his life now. Still felt it, still insecure enough to not use his real name, to not have any insurance or even a mobile contract.

 

“Come with me.” Desmond said and it wasn’t a playful question, but a warm, gentle request. His hand enclosed around Alex. Even if he was being a cactus, Desmond would not let go. He knew what it felt like to be left alone in the dark with your horrors. Every creak in the corridor, every gust of wind against the windows sounded like another one out there to get you when you were alone. Alex needed to know he was not, in fact, alone.

 

He led him to the bathroom and into the spacious shower with the black marble tiles, both of them not fully clothed but still wearing shirts and jeans.

Desmond didn’t care, he turned on the water anyway and pulled Alex tightly against him.

The noise of water to drain out any outside sounds, the warmth of it to calm a racing mind and the stability of someone just holding you should do the trick. The last thing Desmond hadn’t had and so he knew all the better how much it was needed in a situation like this.

 

Alex had followed Desmond with nothing but distracted questions on his mind, but when the idiot actually went and turned the shower on, no insult came to mind. Alex didn’t snap, didn’t even comment. He looked up at Desmond, hair plastered to his face, shirt turning a lovely see-through. 

 

The water bounced over them, over the marble tiles, and took away the world at large. Alex had a face-full of Desmond’s shoulder in front of him and his arms around him like a straitjacket, and still, he wasn’t freaking out. 

 

Actually...it was kind of good. Just marginally. He could indulge the idiot for maybe a minute. His forehead came to rest on Desmond’s shirt and Alex sucked in a deep breath.

 

Still, Desmond didn’t say anything. He knew he wouldn’t want to hear shit like ‘it’s okay’ or whatever. It wasn’t okay. Being hunted was not okay. It was a shit feeling that didn’t go away just because someone told you everything was fine.

In years of trying to hide and escape, Desmond had learned to deal with it on his own but it had taken gallons of good water down the drain and hours spent in the shower until he could deal with it somehow.

 

Alex relaxed against him, slowly, but Desmond held him tightly still, allowing him to rest more of his weight against him.

His hair was wet as was all of their clothes and it was getting its cute curls again. Desmond leaned his head against Alex’ ever so slightly.

 

It was kind of weird to have someone be right there during one of these nights. Someone that Alex didn’t pick up to fuck or whatever, just someone who happened to be in his apartment. The good part of this, apart from the oddly comforting, wet company, was that with Desmond in the apartment, Alex knew no one else had come in. So nothing in here was fucked with, at least not today.

 

Maybe he could unload, just a little. Just...tell someone. It didn’t matter that Desmond neither knew or cared. Alex just...needed not to be alone.

 

“They’re coming for me. I knew it. I fucking knew it.”

 

“Nobody’s been in here.” Desmond answered calmly. Once again, it came down to two things he’d have to keep in mind: Be calm in everything you do and assure him that the current situation was safe.

It would eventually pass, maybe. Or Alex would fall asleep from exhaustion.

 

“I was here the entire day, didn’t go out, didn’t have a key. Nobody’s been in here, Alex.”

 

Water was dripping off of his nose and onto Alex’ shoulder. His white shirt was see-through and while that would have been sexy in some situations, Desmond wasn’t really thinking about getting his dick any wetter than it already was.

His own t-shirt clung to him as did his jeans, but that was fine as long as Alex calmed down.

When had he started to care so much about the guy?

 

Right. Right. He was telling Desmond too much, and it was kind of embarrassing, in retrospect, to know that his two-night-stand had seen him have a meltdown. Alex buried his face harder against Desmond, trying to breathe the fear hammering in his mind away. It was roped deeply into his anger and trust issues, but those were much harder to ignore.

 

“Fuck. Now you think I’m some kind of freak.”

 

“Nope.” Desmond said casually, “Don’t think so.” 

 

Alex was feeling better, he could hear it in his voice. The worst was probably over, but Desmond still held him. He’d have to actively move away from him for him to let go.

 

“Everyone’s got their demons. I know what it’s like.”

 

“No, you don’t.” Alex pulled away. That was quite enough of that indie romance drama movie shit, thanks. He was soaking wet, tired, hungry and definitely not paranoid. There had been men following him, ever since he left Gentek. He wasn’t crazy.

“Fuck. This shirt was a thousand dollars.”

 

He pulled the wet rag off of himself and flung it carelessly aside.

 

Desmond let him go without hesitation and turned the shower off. Taking soaking wet clothes off of you wasn’t the easiest task, but he managed.

Luckily, Alex’ apartment had some good heating/AC system otherwise he’d probably freeze having no clothes to change into.

In his wet shorts, he followed the trail of water to find Alex in the living room, poking at the pizza boxes.

 

“‘S for you. Thought you might like some when you come home.”

 

Why was he so nice with Alex? Alex who treated him like the thousand dollar shirt he’d just left on the ground, wet and in a wrinkly heap.

As he thought that, the memories of the banter with him came to his mind, the little smirks and grins he could tickle out of him, the way Alex moaned and clung to him when he got fucked and the most recent one, Alex resting against him, trusting him.

 

The warmth in his chest curled and Desmond felt odd about it.

 

“Oh.” Alex didn’t say anything more as he lifted the cardboard lid. The pizza was large and still warm, and it was probably a cheap, greasy mess. But it was also perfect for the sudden, hollow feeling in his stomach. 

 

Alex hadn’t even pulled off his wet clothes, falling into a seat on his leather couch. He really couldn’t care less about the state of his furniture. He took a large piece of the pizza, folded it over and took a bite.

 

“Fucking gross. Is this the shit you usually eat?” he carried on, despite his words. It was kinda nice, to come home and have food and company. Shit, the closest thing he knew to that kind of situation was going to a ridiculously expensive restaurant with Karen in her highest heels.

 

“Yep.” Desmond watched him eat with some sort of satisfaction. The cactus came back to mind, a very hungry cactus that devoured the ‘gross’ pizza like it was the best thing in the world.

 

He sat down on the leather seat, leaving the couch to Alex. Already now, his wet form stuck to the material, but it didn’t really matter.

Desmond reached for a piece of pizza for himself and both of them chewed in silence for a moment.

 

“I ran away from my family. They’re… uh, cultists if you will. Tracked me and so on, I had to go undercover. Hence Jake.”

Why he was telling this to Alex, Desmond didn’t really know. He hadn’t told anyone. But perhaps it would calm him to know that he wasn’t the only guy to feel hunted, similarly to how it had some sort of calming effect on him as well to see Alex all jumpy and wide-eyed, panic clear in his whole posture and expression.

Not that he really expected an answer to it. Knowing Alex, he would either elect to ignore it or give him some sort of insult for a response.

 

Alex said nothing for a long while, chewing, swallowing, thinking. That Desmond had thrown his two cents into the ring hardly mattered, but it was still some sort of gesture. One that Alex didn’t have time to analyse, and yet, he knew he couldn’t ignore it completely. Well, he could, in the grand scheme of things, only two people mattered in this world, and Desmond was not one of them.

 

But he was here and Alex kind of wanted him to stay, at least to fuck him as long as it took to put Blacklight out of his head.

 

There was a good chance that would never happen again after what he’d done today, but Alex could try.

 

“...Do you know what I do?”

 

It was an odd question, one Desmond hadn’t expected. He’d calculated with insults or silence, but not with this.

Kind of intriguing, really, but the question was too easily answered. Alex had already told him what he was doing.

 

“You’re a doctor. Save lives and stuff?” Desmond said, never really having thought much about it except he thought the idea of Alex in a lab coat was hot.

  
  


Alex snorted into his pizza and nearly choked on it. Damn, Desmond never even looked at the wall, or the blackboard or the books, in all of the hours he’d spent here? There was being a polite houseguest and plain willful ignorance.

 

“I’m not that kind of doctor. You can read, right?” Alex pulled something from his pocket, unclipped it, and held it out for Desmond to examine. It was his keycard, and it very firmly displayed his profession and employer.

 

To be fair, whenever Desmond had walked past Alex’ wall of photos, his gaze had never stayed on the PhD. That was the one without Alex on it, so why would he look at that one? He’d looked at what he’d assumed Alex’ girlfriend to be, too, and then there was this other woman, probably a relative, a sister maybe, too young to be his mother and Alex didn’t seem like the kinda guy to keep a picture of his ex up.

 

Actually, it was odd that he kept pictures of people up at all.

 

He took the keycard.

It had a picture of Alex on, looking a little bit less tired and stressed. If Desmond didn’t know him, he might as well be some sort of male model. The guy was really pretty and really photogenic

 

“Dr. Alex J. Mercer, huh?” Desmond read, “Head of Research, Project Blacklight.”

 

Below the text, the card read ‘Gentek’ in thick black letters.

 

“You’re a scientist.” He stated, “At Gentek. Is that the ugly bigass building in Gramercy? And what is Project Blacklight?”

 

“Can’t tell you that. I’m a geneticist.” Alex could, in fact, tell Desmond, but the likelihood that he would understand any of what Alex had to say was close to zero. Desmond didn’t seem to have any inclination of any kind of higher understanding, which was fine in bed and useless in life.

 

“Though I can tell you that what I know could and would absolutely make you shit yourself. And get you killed. Still wanna know?”

 

Desmond looked at him, trying to find something in his expression on how he was feeling. If Alex was mocking him, he couldn’t locate an indication for it.

 

He considered it for a moment. Alex wasn’t a psycho, he was paranoid and probably for a reason. The picture on the card in his hand showed him so much less anxious looking. There was probably something going on that weighed heavy on his shoulders and made him lock his door three times.

 

Alex didn’t know about the Templar-Assassin-bullshit and yet he had his own demons, probably in the form of the company he worked for doing some illegal shit.

 

Crazy cultist family, crazy unhinged scientist bosses… Sounded like stuff Desmond could deal with.

 

“Yeah. Let me hear it. And don’t worry about the killing, I’m on the list anyway according to my dad.”

 

“Right. Cult and all.” It was probably a mistake to tell Alex, just like it had been a mistake to mail his laptop to Dana. But Alex knew that it was only a matter of days if not hours until Gentek cracked open his case and found him absolutely ready for a bullet to the head.

Just like the three other researchers that had ‘quit’. 

 

But Alex wouldn’t be stupid enough to try and go to the police with nothing but reports and a plea. He’d go above the police, to some higher authority and the public, and he’d have solid proof in hand. 

 

Telling Desmond wouldn’t change a damn thing about it.

 

“What’s in that building, in my lab? It could wipe out New York in eighteen days. Completely. Gentek has found the viral equivalent of a nuke.” Well, technically,  _ he  _ had mutated the strain to where it was, but he couldn’t take all the credit.

 

“Holy shit.” Desmond stared at him, let the words sink in. Alex wasn’t the kinda guy to make random jokes and he was certainly not a person to try and fool you only to laugh about you after.

He meant what he said.

It didn’t fit in Desmond’s head, not for a long moment.

 

“Viral? As in, virus? Like the flu just a thousand times worse or something? Ebola?”

 

He somehow had to get this into a relation. A nuke was boom and gone was Manhattan and probably most of NYC. The fallout would get the rest. But a virus?

  
Well, apparently he was sitting across the expert, both of them wet and partially undressed, eating pizza. It was fucking unreal. It sounded absolutely crazy, like some Assassins and Templars battling it out in an age-old war.

 

Except that was a cult and Alex really meant it.

 

“... what the hell is that for? Are you working on this stuff?”

  
  


“...it’s exactly for what I said. Like a nuke.” Alex gave him a pointed stare for his comment. Nukes weren’t really multi-purpose in their application, and neither was the virus strain he’d produced. Desmond might be a little slow, but surely, he understood the implication. What Alex had made was on par with the Manhattan Project in terms of destructive potential. And, incidentally, was also a project in Manhattan.

 

“So… killing people?”

Desmond frowned. That sounded exactly like the kinda shit his dad had always told him the Templars were on about. They were behind the Manhattan Project, behind all World Wars and in general were the worst part of everything in life ever.

This Gentek shit sounded like something they would do, make a virus this powerful to control people, to take away their freedom of will and freedom to act, to live in fear.

 

Jesus, he started to sound like his dad, even if it was only in his head.

It was a stupid cult and Gentek had nothing to do with it. Alex’ problem was entirely different from his and yet they were sitting here, discussing it.

 

Alex watched him with those icy eyes of his that, regardless of the glare they gave off, still showed clearly the intelligence in them.

Apparently, smart people were a turn-on for him.

 

And smart people would not tell this kinda stuff to some random idiot like him if they didn’t have a contingency plan.

 

“You’re about to blow it up? Like, go public and all?”

 

“...That’s the plan.” Alex’ gaze wavered and he found a different part of Desmond to focus on. He didn’t need to know what Desmond thought of his actions, it didn’t matter. His opinion would change precisely nothing about Alex’ plan, which was a daring one, if anything.

 

If he survived, it was brilliant. If he did not, Gentek would bury him.

 

“There’s been others who tried the whole whistleblower thing. Didn’t work out.”

 

“Fuck.” Desmond swallowed, eyeing Alex who now looked at his hands instead of his face. He was serious about this all, he was so paranoid for a reason. His company had every reason to take out potential whistleblowers, as it hurt them way more to have to explain their questionable research than to make one or two guys disappear.

 

It was hard to get it into his head, to really understand it. Alex was on a very real kill-list.

Desmond almost overlooked that Alex telling him now meant another thing. When he realised it, the tentative fear he felt chilled him to the bones.

 

“This isn’t just you planning it. This is you telling me you’re already doing it, isn’t it? Fuck, Alex.”

  
  


“It doesn’t matter if I tell you. It either works or it doesn’t. If it doesn’t, try not to say the name Gentek too loudly. I mean, I know we’re basically strangers, but you don’t have to die if you’re not stupid.”

 

And somehow, it mattered. Alex didn’t want people he knew to die for his mistakes. Faceless strangers were one thing, but Dana and now Desmond were another. 

 

The notion would have been appreciated more if Desmond wasn’t busy with the coldness clawing at him. He’d met Alex two weeks ago and found himself attached to a degree now where his life would probably take a while until it went on as usual when he knew Alex was gone.

Somehow, he’d become a focus point already for Desmond, even if all the man had done was return to the Bad Weather to flirt with him and now he allowed him (tentatively) to live in his apartment.

 

Desmond did not want him to die like some criminal, gunned down and hidden quickly, his whole existence scrambled until nobody would ask questions anymore.

If there even were any people left who would, considering it was borderline-sociopath Alex Mercer.

 

He looked at Alex’ stupidly beautiful face and still, the guy wasn’t looking at him.

 

HIs plans could not be changed, Desmond wasn’t dumb, he knew he didn’t have enough influence over him and doubted he ever would, even if they had been officially involved. But perhaps he could make the time until the inevitable happen a little more bearable for them both.

 

Desmond got up from the seat and moved to kneel down on the couch, shifting his weight onto the one knee digging into expensive leather. The rest of his body he leaned over Alex, hands going for Alex’ wrists to pin them over his head, just like the guy loved it, apparently.

 

Trapped as he was, Desmond bent close to him, the words a mere whisper against pale lips. “I can’t stop you, Alex. But I can make both of us forget, at least for tonight.”

 

“Good.” Alex had been hoping for it, from the moment that he understood that Desmond was here to spend another night, to disrupt Alex’ fearful routine until the last, possible moment. And right now, he could appreciate it.

 

It was a tough, tall order, to take someone’s mind away from the gigantic secret he was sitting on, and Desmond was welcome to try.

 

“I’ll sue if you don’t make me forget my name.” It was Alex’ usual, bleak sense of humor, and it wasn’t very strong, which just proved how far gone he was already, but Desmond had one last chance to make a lasting impression.

 

Desmond kissed him, hard and wanting, much like the rest of their night turned out.


	5. Chapter 5

Alex got up in the morning and left without another comment, Desmond pretended to be asleep. The last thing he heard of him was the door falling shut behind him.

 

Restlessness had him get up around ten and hang around Alex’ apartment until he finally left for work. Sure, the night had been great to make both of them not think about it, but the prospect of Alex being in such danger did not leave Desmond alone.   
Maybe he was an idiot for being so attached to a cold asshole like that, but when the clock struck eight in the evening, Desmond had to think about Alex, how he was probably finishing up whatever he was doing to go and leave his workplace, forever.

 

The building was quiet.

Really, really quiet. Alex hadn’t paid attention to it much before, but most of the other Gentek employees, including many of his own subordinates seemed to think six o’clock was an acceptable time to punch out and go home. 

It always used to bring Alex a little kick, to have every lab for himself, to wander the building without being stopped for smalltalk. He used to find it was the most productive time of day for him, which was why he could rack up enough overtime to take half a year off, if he had a normal, reasonable employer.

 

He did not.

 

He worked for Gentek, and Gentek had become paranoid. Scanners at the doors, guards 24/7. They were the reason Alex had spent a week devising a vial that would pass the scanners inside of a specially lined pocket within the innards of his jacket. It was ridiculously easy for someone so smart steal something so deadly.

 

The scanners didn’t beep when he stepped through, and the guards gave him their usual, blank-faced stare. Though one of them did tighten his gloved grip on his rifle.

 

“You have a safe journey home, Doctor Mercer.”

 

Was that sarcasm? Alex glared in his direction, pulled up his hood and walked off, fast. He didn’t like that comment, at all, but now was not the time to stop and wonder.

He palmed his phone, ignoring the damp splashes of rain on the screen. He had Desmond’s number, somehow, though he suspected Desmond changed numbers quite frequently. Initially, Alex wanted to let him know that things had gone according to plan, but he changed his mind; it was better to warn Desmond away. He was a nice guy; Alex would feel bad if he got involved with Gentek.

 

_ Leaving town tonight. Don’t go to apartment anymore. Have a nice life. _

 

There. That was detached, courteous and correctly spelled. Alex couldn’t picture a nicer send-off for a man he’d slept with like two, three times at best and still, somehow, cared for.

 

Half-way across town, Desmond nearly spilled the drink he was mixing when the throwaway phone he’d used to give Alex his number vibrated in his pocket.

He managed to finish his task quickly with only a tiny frown from the patron for his presumed clumsiness and retreated into the backroom to fiddle out his phone.

 

The message on the screen was from Alex, no doubt.

 

Desmond read it once, twice, a third time. He packed the phone away and went back to the bar only to return five minutes later to read it once again.

 

_ Have a nice life. _

 

Somehow, that bugged him. What exactly it was about it that sounded wrong to him, Desmond didn’t know and he didn’t either when he handed his tips for the night to a very confused Hannah, together with his apron.

 

Even on the subway he didn’t know, just that he needed to see Alex one last time, even if it was only from afar. He started telling himself that perhaps that way he would be able to put an end to his racing thoughts, maybe if he saw Alex leave town, then he knew that the guy was off and fine and he could close the chapter of Alex Mercer.

 

Yeah, that was probably it. It was why he hasted through subway stations in order to get somewhere he didn’t know. Totally rational decision, following logic.

 

After half an hour, Desmond found himself inside of Penn Station and had no idea why he was there except the vague idea that Alex would probably get here to leave.

Which was idiotic at best. There were so many possibilities how this could go wrong from Alex never actually having done what he said and just wanting to get rid off Desmond in a creative way to Desmond simply missing him in the crowd to Alex never having gone over Penn Station or being gunned down before ever making it here.

Or he was already gone.

 

It was stupid and Desmond felt stupid scanning the crowd from his perch on the upper level. Even on an emotional whim like this, his instincts and training to hide and keep his person away from danger followed him wherever he went.

 

The mass of people trying to reach their trains or arriving in Manhattan melded into one moving form in front of him, like a river running by.

 

Desmond didn’t know why he was still looking, trying to spot him in the crowd. It was ridiculous, really. Alex was probably gone either way.

Just when he was about to give up and stop staring, his vision blurring oddly at the edges, there was a shimmer of gold somewhere in his peripheral vision.

It caught his attention, even if it was probably just his eyes being tired from staring, but Desmond found his heartrate picking up when his gaze ended up on a familiar hoodie and the black leather jacket with the white stripes on the arms and the twin red dragons on the back.

 

Alex knew someone was watching, but his mind had left Desmond behind long ago. There weren’t just eyes on him as he pushed his way through the crowd. He wanted to get on a train, any train, but his pursuers were on his heels. He could practically hear their boots thunder across the ground. That may also have been his heart, desperately trying to escape his chest.

 

Dana would have called them goose-stepping motherfuckers. Alex knew better than to stop and talk.

 

There! The stairs. The trains were so close. He practically vaulted over four of the first steps, now at a run, but the men behind him never broke the line of sight.

 

Alex made it down one flight of stairs before they opened fire. The steady rattle drowned out the panicked screams of the crowd.

 

For a few seconds, Desmond watched the scene, watched Alex’ unprotected body take all the bullets, each one a tiny impact that blew him backwards until slowly, he sank to his knees.

 

It was all real. Desmond had known it before, but seeing it happen in front of his eyes changed something inside of him. This wasn’t him trying to see him one last time, this was him seeing the truth, seeing the soldiers that gunned him down like his life was worth nothing, regardless of how many people saw them.

 

Not entirely regardless because as soon as Alex fell down, lifeless, they turned on the people around them.

 

From then on, it was all instinct and training classes all over again. His dad yelling at him to find cover, to hide better, or he would die a cruel death today.

Maybe it was all worth it, if only for this, some part of Desmond’s mind mused that wasn’t spiralling out of control with horror, fear and, yeah, loss was in there too.

 

Perhaps the only reason why he’d had to endure a shitty childhood locked away in some cultists’ farm was so he could survive the Penn Station purge.

 

Alex’ flat wasn’t exactly easy to break into, but that was why Desmond had stolen his reserve key just the other night when Alex had fallen asleep at last.

 

He had been implicitly forbidden from returning here and yet, sitting on the Egyptian cotton that still smelled like their nightly adventures (and most of all, like Alex), both calmed and upset Desmond.

 

Alex was gone, just like that. The memories of him, drunk out of his mind in the bar, being a sneering asshole, being a funny asshole, having a tight asshole, and then being fucking murdered at fucking Penn Station where everyone saw what happened… It made everything so unreal that Desmond had no other choice than to go here and see it was all real. Hell, the pizza boxes from the other night were still on the table in the living room…

 

Desmond didn’t feel like crying, but there was a lump in his throat when he closed the apartment door behind him. It was a nice apartment, no doubt, but there were memories connected to it and also he was probably going to get a visit by his employer’s murderous lackeys sooner or later.

 

Rather sooner than later he found out on the way back to the elevator, because those fucking bastards walked past him in the same attire they’d worn when they’d executed Alex.

 

He straightened up to walk past them, and then suddenly, one of them (or maybe their command central watching security videos) added two and two together and called, “You! Stop right there!”

 

Desmond ran. Luckily the elevators were around the corner and he made it to one of them, hopped out three floors down and took the stairs from then on out. He knew how to run away, at least that.

 

Gunshots and shouts followed him, but Desmond, unlike the recently deceased owner of the apartment, knew how to be evasive.


	6. Chapter 6

Manhattan was not the same. Neither was here. He couldn’t remember how he’d gotten here, why his head was empty and yet full, or how he had managed to jump a twenty foot fence and throw a car at a helicopter.

 

One thing was certain; he only remembered his name and that he’d woken up with a blade in his chest.

 

Alex Mercer. That was him, but it didn’t ring any bells. Alex Mercer could be anyone or everyone. What was he? As far as he recalled, he had a sister, he used to be a man that could die when riddled with bullets and he was somewhere in Manhattan, the heart of the concrete jungle.

 

The streets were familiar, but he did not know their names. 

 

Dana. His sister. Surely, she would know what happened to him, why he couldn’t remember anything beyond waking up in a morgue.

 

-x-

 

He didn’t find the location of his sister as he’d hoped. Instead, he discovered that he could  _ fucking eat people _ and learn their memories, take them as his own. It was terrifying as it was fascinating, but it didn’t give Alex the answers he craved. In fact, it felt as if he was always on the cusp of discovery, with the truth tantalizingly close, yet never in reach.

 

He didn’t find Dana, but he did find another name, another face; Desmond Miles. The Blackwatch commander he’d killed and devoured had seen a file, and on it, it stated that Desmond Miles was his lover; he must know more about Alex than what Alex remembered.

 

Finding him was a lot easier than finding Dana; he had an address, a workplace, and, after an ill-advised trip to Alex’ apartment, a scent. The apartment was lost, but the scent guided Alex like no other.

 

Two days after Penn Station, stuff had been on the news about weird stuff happening inside of it, but the news never actually found out what was going on. Except that there was some weirdass disease going around with people vomiting up blood and all that stuff. All Desmond had in mind was the eighteen days Alex had told him about, the days it would take to infect all of New York.

 

After Alex’ death and the visit to his apartment, Desmond was sure he was on the radar now which was why he never returned to his own apartment nor to his workplace. They would expect him to leave the city straight away, so he didn’t. For a few days, he hid away in what he’d established to be his safehouse when he’d gotten here and he’d kept it up ever since. After some years, chances had been low that he’d never need it, but as things were turning out right now, he did need it after all.

 

Alex’ death was ever present in his mind, but dealing with the feeling of being hunted was not as jarring as it had been the first time around. Desmond knew he could get away and he was going to, even if it meant that he would have to hang out in the old, hollow AC unit on top of one of the Upper West side’s office buildings.

  
With only his radio for company and a lot of instant noodles and water stashed away, Desmond hoped that this infection thing would get bad enough for people to be distracted from him. And then he would leave.

  
  


The scent was faint. Alex would be lying if he said it was easy to identify and follow. Manhattan was full of people, and each of them had a unique smell to them. After his discovery of his consumption abilities, Alex figured that it was appetising and repulsive in equal measures. He could smell the age, the sex, the health...it was bizarre. If he wasn’t so lost in his new life, he might have been intrigued by his own abilities.

 

But this particular scent, the one he followed out of the apartment, the one of his supposed lover...it was good. Kind of hearty and yet sweet. Alex tried hard not to compare it to food.

 

It lead him through half of Manhattan, away from the park, towards a landmark Alex dimly recalled as Times’ Square. And...up. It was no problem to scale the wall, Alex’ feet finding an easy hold that defied gravity as he climbed up to the roof. Or rather, walked. He didn’t need to climb. 

Several AC Units hunkered on top of the building, accompanied by a water tower. No sign of any would-be lover. Alex had expected the worst, a fresh corpse, or just another sign, but the scent was strong. Fresh. Alive.

 

He prowled towards the AC units, reaching out and tapping them relatively gently. It was still enough force to make each of them rattle in their foundations.

 

Just a second ago, Desmond had been sitting in his hideout, eating a can of barely heated (thanks to the little gas-cooker) spaghetti.

Then, something close to him, something metal, rattled. A pause. Then, something even closer.

Desmond sat up and quietly put the spaghetti away. Someone or something was moving all the AC units on the roof.  _ Testing _ them.

 

His heart leapt into his throat and started beating quickly there. Instead of freezing up though, Desmond armed himself with his switchblade and the handgun he kept in here as well.

 

Before he could move and get out of the hollow AC unit, it began rattling and a dent formed on one side of it.

As far as Desmond knew, none of the other units were empty. That was part of his disguise, too. A roof full of useless ACs would at some point get removed or exchanged, but if only one didn’t work? Low chance that someone would notice.

 

But this? It looked like someone was looking for him. Nobody just went around and checked AC units for what was inside and certainly not by  _ rattling _ them. Who could even produce an indent like that?

 

Desmond held entirely still and hoped that he could get the first strike at whatever would undoubtedly notice that this AC unit was different.

 

Alex paused. The last AC on the line was hollow, he could hear something rattling around inside, and a lot of echoed noise. It would be a well-disguised hideout if it was one, or maybe Desmond Miles had been here recently.

He couldn’t let it go unchecked. His fingers twisted, became long and sharp, blades instead of blunt digits that carved through the thin metal of the AC’s casing.

 

Inside of the AC unit, Desmond watched, now finally entirely stunned by this nightmare happening to him. With horror, he saw ten curved, long blades slice through the metal casing on the far end of the AC as if it was butter.

The hairs in the back of his neck stood up, he pressed himself closely to the furthest wall away from it.

He tried to even out his breathing, remembering what he’d been taught. If you were panicked, you wouldn’t be able to get anything done.

 

At least he had the element of surprise on whatever was out there to get him.

  
Desmond ducked and turned off the small lightsource he had with him.

 

The claws pulled back after cracking the AC open like a box of cookies. Alex nearly stumbled bac k as the scent wafted out of the unit, hot and heady and fearful. Alex could get drunk on it, really, and it took him a long moment to adjust. He let his hands turn back, made sure every part of him was human before he stepped one foot into the AC, ducking through the makeshift doorway.

 

His eyes adjusted to the darkness with ease, and the human plastered against the other wall was thankfully still alive.

“Desmond Miles?”

 

Desmond held onto his gun, holding it pointed at where the AC had a hole now.

He almost pulled the trigger, but something kept him from it, an odd shimmer of gold on the outer range of his vision.

 

The moment where he’d have had the element of surprise with him came and went, and Desmond stared at what he saw in front of him.

 

The clothes, the colours, the stupidly handsome face.

It couldn’t be possible. Desmond had seen him die, he’d seen him shot, he’d seen him murdered by his own employer’s lackeys.

 

His mind screeched to a halt only to began scrambling. The gun trembled ever so slightly, but Desmond managed to keep it pointed at the apparition in front of him.

 

“A-alex…?”

Impossible. It couldn’t be Alex.

 

“You-- you’re… They shot him! I saw it! This can’t be, you can’t be him.”

Desmond found he sounded like a nervous wreck and he probably was. Time for him to do something about it.

 

He aimed the gun at the... Thing’s head.

  
“Alex Mercer is dead.”

 

Desmond pulled the trigger.

 


	7. Chapter 7

The shot went off. Alex felt the bullet pierce his biomass and pass through, the hole closing immediately as it exited behind him and lodged itself into another AC unit.

 

So he recognized him. And thought he was dead. Just like the men in the morgue.

“You know me?” he asked, hopeful and willing to ignore the fact that he’d been shot at. Bullets didn’t hurt him. Desmond Miles would have to upgrade to a heftier piece if he wanted to hurt him.

 

Desmond saw the bullet go through the guy’s forehead, he saw it. And then the wound vanished and the guy kept talking. Like absolutely nothing had just happened.

 

“What the fuck?” Desmond discarded the gun and went for the switchblade. “Don’t come closer!” He warned, holding out the blade. It did stop the thing from coming closer, Alex’ blue eyes on him.

 

“I knew the guy that you look like, whatever the fuck this is.” He brought out, feeling nauseous. There was water gathering in his mouth and Desmond was pretty sure he was gonna throw up if any other weird shit happened.

 

“What the fuck do you want from me?”

 

Alex didn’t stop. Couldn’t. He stepped closer and closer, sure now that he knew this man. His scent was so familiar, it was like a leash, tugging Alex along. 

 

The blade in Desmond’s hand sank through the biomass, but Alex didn’t bleed anymore, so all it did was heat up vaguely as it pressed deeper, viral flesh slithering around the hilt of it as Alex bracketed Desmond between his arms and leaned in, past his face, to his neck, where he breathed in deeply. Precious. Important. Familiar.

 

“I know you...I...remember you. You brought me pizza. You were there, before...”

 

Desmond froze up entirely. He felt the blade was stuck somewhere in Alex (or whatever this was) and there was some movement on it that he wanted to disregard altogether. Then there was this Alex copy, pinning him against the wall, sniffing his neck like some creep.

 

It was all a bad dream, it had to be. This wasn’t possible, he’d shot the guy and now stabbed him in the stomach and all he did was smell him.

And tell him stuff that only Alex Mercer knew.

 

His voice was croaky when he spoke, but he managed to bring out, “How… do you know that? You can’t be Alex, Alex was shot at Penn Station! I saw it, I was  _ there _ .”

 

“...I woke up in a morgue,” Alex whispered, closing his eyes as he basked in the familiar scent. It brought pictures to the forefront of his mind, just like the lives of the people he consumed did. Yet, he didn’t feel any desire to end Desmond’s life. Much the opposite. He cringed away from the notion, just like he did when he thought of the sister he could barely recall.

 

“I don’t remember what happened. But I remembered you. Desmond Miles. We met...in a bar. You made me a drink,” he searched his mind frantically for the name, drawing back a little so he could look into Desmond’s eyes, “A Shirley Templar.”

 

Desmond shook his head, utterly shocked by what he was hearing. Those were Alex’ memories. The Shirley Templar (that he remembered that was fascinating), okay, yeah, but that was something other people could know, too. What they could not know was the pizza thing.

 

“Did you just say you woke up in a  _ morgue _ ? Jesus  _ Christ _ .”

 

There was no relaxation for him, not when faced with a dead man come alive again for whatever crazy reasons.

 

Desmond dared to move and pulled at the knife.

This Alex-zombie did not seem to want to hurt him. Maybe it was best if Desmond did not hurt him either.

 

“Look, I… uh, I barely knew Alex Mercer. If you’re searching for your memory, I can’t really help you. I was just, well…”

This was getting increasingly odd. Alex’ icy eyes were on him, but they were curious and not as cold as they had been. Desmond avoided his gaze again.

 

“I was a fling Alex… you... had. I didn’t know much about you.”

 

“But I remember you. Gentek...they had files on you. Your name, your job, your home...they knew everything, and were looking for you. Are.” Alex understood enough of human behavior to know he was being carefully distanced as Desmond tried to figure out how to handle this.

 

“And I  _ remember _ you. There’s not much that I recall. I know my name, I know yours, I know I have a sister, Dana. Everything else,” Alex drew back a little, a quiet noise of pain on his lips as he grabbed at his head. It still ached fiercely now and then, flashing with memories that could be his, or could be someone else’s.

“You were...are important.”

 

Desmond watched him draw back and hold his head. Was he feigning something? It was hard to discern, especially with his heart beating wildly like that and with that mad hope somewhere in him that told him that maybe, maybe through some crazy miracle this was actually Alex in some form.

 

He seemed so lost. Lost enough for Desmond to feel compassion for whatever he was.

When he withdrew the switchblade, he put it back in his pocket.

“Okay, if you’re really… really Alex, and let’s say I ignore my raging doubt on the matter because I watched them turn you into a sieve down there… What do you want to know?”

 

When he had the guy’s attention back on him, his gaze gave him goosebumps. There was something about him that made his instincts go haywire, had them scream at him to run as far away as he could. Or to hide. Or to fight. Really, everything in him told him he was in danger with this guy around.

 

Desmond inhaled, then raised his hands.

“Can… can we go outside? I think I’m developing claustrophobia with both of us in here. I’ll tell you what you want to know outside.”

 

He hadn’t been outside very often, just to take care of bodily urges.

  
  


Alex nodded, stepping back to allow Desmond room to move. He squeezed out of the hole he’d made in the AC unit. In broad daylight, he looked human as Alex Mercer never did as he contemplated Desmond’s words.

 

So he was...not Alex Mercer? But he felt like him, felt his body cling to one shape in particular, one face, one voice.

 

“Who am I? Alex Mercer. What did I do? Why am this?” The questions were quick and he couldn’t find the patience to allow Desmond time to answer as he continued, prone to pacing.

 

“What am I? I’ve survived death and worse. Why do I not remember? Why do I remember you? Why do you smell like home?”

 

Desmond was taken aback by this much emotion from someone with Alex’ face. It made him look human to be like this, to be pacing and frowning, his eyes so open and with question in them.

 

He had the urge to get closer and reach out for him and when he did, Alex’ jacket felt oddly warm despite it being quite late in the day.

 

Their eyes met.

 

“I can’t answer you any of these questions. But if… if you’re Alex, in some form… I…” He couldn’t say it because he didn’t know what he wanted to say. It was as if the right words were on the tip of his tongue, but he could not say them.

“Do you remember the virus that Alex made?”

 

“I made a virus? So I was...I worked at Gentek?” Alex clung to what he knew, and tried to fill the many gaps as quickly as possible. It wasn’t much, but maybe Desmond could settle some of his questions.

 

“So I wasn’t some test subject?”

 

Desmond frowned and shook his head.

“No, not that I know of. I mean, I just knew you for what? Barely two weeks or something. But no, you… Alex told me he was a researcher at Gentek. Head of the project, uhm, Backfright? No, wait, Blacklight. He was a doctor in genetics. A genius from all I understood. He made it pretty big pretty fast. And then he told me he was working on the biologic equivalent to a nuke.”

 

“I did? Why the fuck would I tell you that if you were just a fling? I knew you were important to me.” Alex was pretty sure that a gesture of trust such as telling him work secrets meant that overall, Desmond was a competent and trustworthy companion. Someone Alex had entrusted himself to before his untimely demise, and someone who knew to be careful.

 

“So we were together?”

 

“No, no.” Again, Desmond raised his hands, shaking his head. “We weren’t. Alex made that abundantly clear, he wanted me to, uh… well, this is awkward. I think he kinda kept me to take his mind off of things. By, well…”

  
Alex looked at him with curiosity. He didn’t seem to be able to figure it out on his own.

“Shit, man. He let me fuck his brains out. There. We weren’t together, we were more of a sex thing. Benefits with slight note of friends. If anything.”

Desmond sighed. He remembered Alex well, especially on that last night. The last night had been different, or maybe it had just been him. But Alex had clung to him more than usual, had readily let himself get kissed and doted on, something he’d usually complained about.

BUt back to the facts.

 

“He just told me because we were… never gonna see each other again. He wanted to do something, expose Gentek, then leave. He sent me this… this text message.”

Desmond fumbled for his pocket and produced the phone. For whatever dumb reason he still had it, if only to look at the message.

He handed it to the guy with Alex’ face.

 

“Call me sentimental…” He offered him a half-grin.

 

Alex hoped for more when he looked at the message, but it was fairly simple, fairly straight forward and not very personal. Was this how Alex Mercer communicated, or was this a special farewell that took it out of him?

 

It didn’t really matter, but Alex was curious.

 

“So I...he...knew this might happen?” Alex looked down at his hands, shifted the pale, human skin away to see black and oozing red, winding and writhing over his arm, in constant motion.

 

“I’m gonna find out who did this to me.” He looked at Desmond, determined, “and I will make them pay.”

 

Desmond stared at what happened to his hands and felt sick, yet intrigued.

 

“What the fuck is that? You did that earlier, didn’t you? The things that you opened the AC unit with? That was you! How did you find me?”

 

It all didn’t make any sense. And answering his’ questions didn’t really get him further to the truth but at least whatever he was now would be less inclined to decide it would be nice to try freaky shit on him.

 

“He knew he was being chased. Apparently Gentek has taken out other researchers before that tried to expose them. I don’t know what exactly he did, but he had some sort of plan. And then he went to Penn Station and… Yeah.”

 

“Where I died. You made that clear.”

Alex wasn’t in a hurry to shift back. Desmond seemed very aware that he was not human, and therefore not terrified of him. Or at least, he was doing a good job at not letting it bother him too much.

 

“I found your scent all over my apartment. I followed it here. I knew that I knew you. We may just have had sex, but there is more to this than you know. You’re something special. I just don’t fucking know what.”

 

“That sounds pretty freaky if you asked me. Then again, I think I haven’t showered in three days now.”

 

The last time he’d showered had actually been with Alex and the memory was a good one, included the sensation of pale skin pressed against his own and Alex’ hands clawing into his ass.

 

But this Alex didn’t need to know that if he didn’t already.

 

“Well, I’m a bartender. I’m nobody special.” Cultist family and all that, but other than that, everything was normal.

Except he was standing above Times Square with a person that looked like a dead man in the middle of what the radio called the Red Zone.

 

“Do you know what’s going on down there? People were vomiting blood and all that. It almost sounds as if the virus you were on about got out or whatever.”

 

“I don’t know. But I can find out.” Alex looked off of the side of the building. A block over, a man was standing by a car that looked suspiciously armored, talking into a small device. He was really starting to see this Blackwatch business everywhere. Their uniforms were the same as the men who had killed him.

 

“Wait here.”

 

He stepped off of the side of the building and plummeted like an anchor.

 

“What-- no, wait! _ Fuck!! _ ” Desmond scrambled forward as soon as he understood what was going to happen. He slid forward on his knees to look over the edge, clinging to the low wall around the building’s roof. The view from up here was nauseating and Desmond clung to the concrete. For a second, there was nothing to be seen from Alex and then, forty stories below, the asphalt cracked as if a meteor had just fallen from the sky. Except it wasn’t a meteor, it was moving. Desmond could faintly make out a human shape.

 

“What the fuck?” He brought out.

 

The not-so-human meteor moved out of his crater fairly swiftly, ignoring the gasping witnesses of his coming. He had a commander to consume and a web of information to unlock. Oh, and a new, human companion to guard, but Desmond seemed like he knew how to take care of himself. For the first time in his short life, Alex had found something pleasant about himself. He had a special someone that persisted beyond death. That alone, that was something human to hold on to.

 

-x-

 

There was no staying in the AC. Alex ensured Desmond that his scent was spread far and wide up here now and with that knowledge, Desmond felt anything but safe. If it weren’t soldiers to find him, it could now be any other creepy thing that could smell him across the city.

If there were any, but with Alex showing up only three days in, chances were high that others like him would eventually pop up. Maybe.

 

If Desmond hadn’t been already used to the whole paranoia-running-away-and-hiding-thing, he would probably be a nervous wreck. It tore at him this time, too, but one, this was the second time around and two, he wasn’t alone.

 

Alex stayed with him. He pretended to leave when Desmond packed his most important things together, but when he exited the empty building downstairs, finding a ghost city in front of him, Desmond saw him ‘hide’ not too far away.

It was kind of adorable, really.

 

With his hood up, a scarf covering both his mouth and his nose, his backpack stuffed full and his two weapons at hand, Desmond made his way along the sides of the house. On every corner, he took a moment to check for any soul or not-soul around, ducking, hiding, waiting until he sprinted to the next cover.

For a while he kept it up until Desmond noticed that there was really nothing out there as long as he did not run into any soldiers.

 

Manhattan was still bustling as if nothing was wrong, but every day, more Blackwatch soldiers mixed up the crowds. They were present, searching, and it wasn’t difficult to find out what it was they were after. Alex, or ZEUS as they called him. And his associates, his sister and Desmond.

 

It was hard to leave Desmond alone, and Alex had not yet managed, but his sister would probably know more about him than a brief fling, no matter how attached Alex felt to him. So he waited until he knew Desmond to be safe. Today, they were moving to some other hiding spot.

 

Alex trailed after Desmond, trying casually not to make a scene. Oh, and make sure Desmond didn’t see him either, because he didn’t seem terribly fond of the resurrected Alex Mercer.

 

What Alex didn’t know was that Desmond was highly aware of anything suspicious following him and Alex was highly suspicious in the way he just walked after him like a lost puppy.

The thought was almost cute until Desmond remembered the blades digging into the AC unit’s hull. He was pretty certain by now that that had been Alex’ fingers. Turned into giant sharp, unhealthy looking claws, like in some crazy movie.

 

Also, this Alex was different. He didn’t run around with a constant sneer on his face, he ran around with confusion and a dollop of almost childlike curiosity.

Which was cute, but also so much unlike Alex, Desmond didn’t know what to make of it. This must be what amnesia did to people and their surroundings, he mused as he left the subway station, it estranged everyone involved from one another.

Desmond hoped for Alex that his sister would take it better than he did.

 

The other safehouse, incidentally, was near Alex’ old flat. There were more soldiers here, but Desmond did well to hide himself in the crowd of people walking by.

He had to take a sharp turn into the adjacent street and move from one flow of people into the other. Perhaps it was fate or maybe just the end of his lucky streak, but a patrolling soldier saw him.

 

“Hey, you! Stop right there!”

The crowd around him became disturbed, confused, looking at each other as to who the soldier meant. Desmond bolted, pushing people aside until he made it onto the open street. Luckily, the streetlights were red and the cars all standing when he vaulted over the hoods to make it to the other side.

 

And then something metal hit the car in front of him and left a bullet hole, before Desmond could even hear the gunfire.

He ducked and crawled around the car, tried to take a different route, heart beating in his throat. The streetlights would soon turn green and then he was going to get run over anyway. This was so messed up. Like all of his nightmares coming true at once.

 

Desmond was right about it being messed up, and it certainly was the stuff of nightmares, not just for him. The armed men opened fire. They could hardly be called soldiers, what with the disregard for any and all civilian life around them. Cars were turned into swiss cheese in the effort to get to Desmond, but only for thirty seconds.

 

Then, the gunfire took a sudden pause as the men scrambled.

 

“That’s him!” 

 

They turned but it was too slow. Even if they riddled Alex with bullets, he wouldn’t go down. Instead, the Blackwatch soldiers would find themselves on the receiving end of claws. Three of them died instantly, the others dove for cover.

 

Alex, however, only had eyes for Desmond, and currently saw him dodge and weave between the cars of the panicked people trying to escape the sudden shoot-out. A van raced towards Desmond, and two cars on either side blocked his escape. Alex moved without thought.

 

The crunch of metal and squeal of tires was all he could hear, the vague burn of an impact along his back where he stood in the van’s path.

 

Desmond found himself staring up at Alex from his position flat on the ground. He did not feel his fingers as he pushed himself up, staring at the man who saved his life. A mere second ago, he’d thought his only chance to survive was to hope that under the van there was enough space for him to not be flattened or dragged along for the ride, but with his backpack on, that idea was stupid.

Now, said van’s grill was folded half-way around Alex’ body, the guy looking entirely unharmed. This was insane, entirely fucked up, but Desmond could not help but be grateful to whatever it was that had made Alex indestructible like this.

 

Desmond pushed himself up, the splinters from the car digging into his palms. The gunfire had stopped, but instead of it there were screams of horror and people running. Before he saw the reason, he made the connection as he looked at Alex’ face.

 

“Thank you.” Desmond brought out, voice on the verge of breaking from stress and physical strain, “We need to get out of here.”

 

“Can you hold onto me?” Alex heard the screams, knew they were because of him, and he knew Blackwatch was not his only problem. He needed to disappear, quickly, and with Desmond, otherwise this whole business of trailing him would be entirely useless.

 

But they needed to move faster than Desmond’s street-darting allowed. Alex brushed the remains of car and driver off of himself like dust.

 

It was odd, entirely so, to cling to a guy half a head smaller than him. Weirdly enough, Desmond found him unmoving as if he was climbing a tree or a pillar made of concrete. Probably what the van had felt like too when it ran into him.

The last time he’d been taken on a piggyback ride was long ago, but in this situation it seemed to make sense.

Not-Alex didn’t even struggle with his weight or anything.

 

People were still screaming, faint sirens were to be heard from somewhere. What the guy was planning, Desmond didn’t know, but he did know that they needed to disappear and quickly so.

  
“We gotta go.”

 

“Yeah, we’re about to.” Alex made sure that Desmond was still a separate part, not to be absorbed, consumed, and then, he set off. Not at a walk or a jog, but a flat out run that outpaced any and every human on the planet. He could feel Desmond duck his head behind his hood, which would have been blown back if it was made out of mere cloth. But Alex’ clothing was biomass and moved only according to his rules, and no other.


	8. Chapter 8

 

The sprint didn’t stop as they approached a building. With a single bound, Alex cleared the first three floors and landed on the vertical surface, where his run continued. Small smatterings of his true form flashed around his feet, the biomass converting to fight gravity, but nothing about it slowed their speed.

 

Unlike his current mount’s, Desmond’s own hood was blown away from his face in an instant. He clung to the guy that had saved him (and was still currently saving him), but the speed at which he went made him feel like he was trying to cling to the outer hull of a starting airplane.

 

When the guy leapt, Desmond almost yelped. When they landed on the side of the building, Desmond did yelp. Gravity wasn’t so easy with him, it pulled on him and his backpack, but by now, he was clinging to not-Alex like a koala, with arms and legs tightly wrapped around him and his eyes closed, hoping everything would be over soon.

 

They were going up so quickly that Desmond felt his ears pop and the wind tore on him as well. Just when they reached even ground again, restoring the pull of gravity to normal levels, just when Desmond cracked open his eyes and opened his mouth to say something, not-Alex took three steps and leapt.

 

This time, Desmond did yell as they sailed from one building to the other.

 

There, the wild ride stopped for now. Desmond was dizzy when he let go off the guy and swayed on wobbly knees, looking slightly green in the face.

 

“Y-you… That… Warn me next time, _ holy shit _ .” He pressed his hand against his lips, trying hard to not throw up canned soup.

That it was kinda cool, Desmond would appreciate later, for now he needed to focus on not falling over.

And on telling Alex where to go.

 

The address was some high-up building in the fourth row to Central Park, pretty nice view and all, but the ‘safehouse’ itself was just the end of the roof staircase house that wasn’t used anymore since a new access to the roof by maintenance elevator had been built.

 

When they landed there, Desmond luckily wasn’t so wobbly on his feet anymore. The second time around, he’d been somewhat prepared for this guy to defy gravity and laws of physics.

 

“Uh, thanks. That was pretty fast.”

 

“Yeah. I lose helicopters that way.” Alex had no idea how his method of travelling would affect a human being, so it was kind of educational to see Desmond wobble around on unsteady feet. If his speed did that to a healthy young man, he was going to have to take if he ever had to transport a human delicately.

But so far, so good.

 

“This your other safehouse?” It didn’t look very safe, it looked very derelict, but Alex suspected that was the point.

“You’ll stay here?”

 

It would be best if Alex knew where to find his allies, or at least, acquaintances.

 

“Yeah. I have food and water for presumably ten days.”

Even though Desmond didn’t know what to make of him yet, he suddenly did not want to let him go just like that.

Maybe it was because he had Alex’ face and the last time Desmond had seen Alex go, he got shot, but he took a step towards the guy, mind racing to find something to say.

 

He reached out to touch his arm and squeeze it. “You know where to find me. If you’re, uh, up for round two.”

Desmond managed half a grin, hoping and at the same time not hoping that the guy had this memory of Alex too.

 

“Round two? Of what?” Alex stilled, not sure what he was being told. Was this important? Was there more that Desmond simply hadn’t told him? He didn’t like knowing so little, but the option of consuming Desmond was out of the question. The man was one of two people that could know and help. He wasn’t going to kill him.

 

Confusion layered itself across his face.

 

So he didn’t remember. Maybe it was better that way.

Desmond shook his head, thought about not explaining it to him. But then there was this expression on him, confusion, that looked particularly adorable on a man that Desmond only knew as someone who was never confused, always knew everything.

 

“It was a reference to something I told Alex. After I, uh, stayed with him for the first time, he kicked me out the morning after and I told him those words then. I thought maybe you’d remember, but don’t worry. It’s a stupid detail.”

 

It was better to refer to this guy as some other person. Alex was dead.

 

“Oh,” The confusion cleared up, Alex nodding as he understood that it was in reference. He wished he had the full command of Alex Mercer’s memories, instead of this half-existence. For days now, he had this headache and this hollow emptiness. Desmond had eased it with his presence, but it persisted still.

 

“Stay here. I’m going to find Dana and figure out what she knows. I’ll come back for you.”

 

That was a little more like Alex, ordering him around like that. Desmond’s grin turned into a small smile. Maybe not everything was lost, maybe Alex lived on in there somehow.

 

The fact that he’d been promised a reunion wasn’t very much like Alex, but he was willing to overlook that in favour of actually not being left alone up here forever.

 

“Thanks, I’ll take your word for it. See ya soon.”

 

Alex said nothing more, he just took off, overcome by haste to find his sister. Who knew how long Blackwatch had tracked her. She had to know more than Desmond, she just had to.

 

-x-

 

She did. And Alex wished he’d never found out what she knew and followed up on it.

 

Elizabeth Greene had needed no help in escaping, but Alex felt guilt for it nonetheless. It only took hours for her to infect the first people, and when Alex traversed the city, he found it turned into a horror movie.

 

The knowledge of what he was and how he’d been made didn’t help. 

A week, two, three passed before he knew everything, before he understood what Alex Mercer had done and what Blackwatch wanted to do to him.

 

Manhattan had become the Red Zone, Penn Station ground zero for the infection. Shambling, empty shells stumbled around the city, attacking anything Elizabeth Greene wanted gone. They were not mindless, but they were not people anymore. Alex felt no remorse when he had to slaughter them by the droves.

It was hell.

 

On Day 5 after not-Alex had left, Desmond had started to ration his food. In his backpack he had brought food for three days more, but even if he rationed that too, on Day 19 he was running low on reserves.

The radio chatter had turned into military warnings being sent. If Desmond found a channel still broadcasting, it was full of horror stories that proved what he saw from the edge of the house. Zombie-like creatures walked the streets, slowly shambling along until they heard or saw something that they identified as a threat or as food. Then, they nearly sprinted towards it with much the same inhuman flair about it that not-Alex had.

 

Nineteen days and still no sight of him. Desmond had locked himself away in the safehouse on Day fourteen, after one of the things down on the street had stopped and looked his way. Perhaps they could smell him, too. Ever since then, he avoided opening the safehouse, keeping all windows closed and trusting in the loosely closed up entry from the staircase to bring in enough air for him to live. It didn’t smell nice, it certainly wasn’t healthy, but Desmond was still alive.

 

He had been chewing on the third of a granola bar that was his food today for the past half an hour, contemplating how the hell he was going to get himself food. Maybe with some luck, the house below him was empty and he could find some sustenance there, but chances were high the Infected were present there, too.

 

Not-Alex… Well, Desmond had kind of given up on him. Zeus they called him on the radio, after the Greek god of thunder and father to all other gods and Desmond didn’t think it was fitting. At least he had a name though to discern him from the deceased Alex.

So he was still around, but according to the radio, busy elsewhere. Chances were high he had just forgotten about him after finding his sister.

Desmond hadn’t been that important to Alex Mercer so it all made sense, even if it kinda stung.

 

An impact that made the ground tremble for a second ripped him away from his musings and back into reality. Desmond ducked and then peered out of the small window to see what the hell had happened.

Heavy footfalls and then, Desmond saw the grossest thing yet, a deformed, big-ass naked Infected with clawed front feet and a face full of teeth.

He ducked, then grabbed his backpack filled with the most important stuff and scrambled forward towards the door. There was no way out up here anyway, the only way for Desmond to get out alive was through the house anyway.

 

The hunter smelled him too, but there was no pleasant association in its cavernous, empty mind. It obeyed the command to fetch, and that was all. It tore into the door, the undefined hole that was its mouth open and drooling as it roared in Desmond’s direction.

 

Claws as long as Desmond’s arm began to peel back the wall as it bullied its pinkish, pulsating body into his safehouse.

 

Desmond was busy with the door, throwing himself against it and as the hunter reached for him, he got his knife out and hacked away at the lock.

As nice and safe as it had been to know no one could come up here, it was inconvenient in case Desmond wanted to flee. Like right now.

 

Behind him he could feel the swishing of the creature’s arm trying to reach him, the movement in the air from how close it was to its goal. Something cracked that sounded horribly like the wall and then the claw got him by the backpack and yanked him backwards.

Desmond yelled, trying to unfasten the straps on him. It worked and he fell, immediately scrabbling forward while the creature sniffed whatever it had grabbed.

 

Desmond threw himself against the door but it would not budge. The hunter gave a bone-chilling howl as it realised it had not yet gotten ahold of its prey and went fishing once more.

 

When it got him this time, there was nothing Desmond could do. He was lucky it didn’t punch holes in him with those claws as it tore him out of the building.   
In the creature’s grasp, he turned, going for the handgun on his thigh. One, two, three times he managed to shoot it in the head, but nothing happened.

Instead, it glared at him from holes where (perhaps) eyes should have been.

 

Hunters were terrible, awful and tough things to kill, but at least they were easy to spot. Alex saw and heard the damn thing long before he got to Desmond’s safehouse, which was currently very unsafe. He saw the tall figure of Desmond in the hunter’s grasp, looking especially fragile and human. Alex could not waste time, or the hunter would take Desmond to Greene, or worse, kill him right away.

 

He vaulted over the roof edge, landing foot-first in the hunter’s back. It dropped Desmond after stumbling forward, giving an outraged howl as it turned. Alex was in no mood to play with it however, and his entire arm took on the shape of a blade which he thrust right into the hunter’s mouth. The blade tore through the eyeless head, the thick neck and the torso, the hunter’s roar a wet gurgle. Alex stepped on its arms as it collapsed, hungry tendrils shooting from his shoulders, his sides, mantling around the hunter.

 

He tore it apart, the pieces clasped firmly by the tendrils escaping his body. Alex groaned softly as the large, bleeding chunks faded and became black, devoured by every part of him. Once the hunter was completely gone, Alex wiped his face and turned to Desmond, fully human in shape.

 

“Are you alright?”

 

Desmond had watched the whole spectacle from where he’d fallen on his ass, ten feet away. He sat there, with wide eyes and turned to stone when what they called Zeus regarded him with Alex’ face.

 

Not only could he turn his body into weapons of epic proportions and fight with them like he’d been made to, but he also seemed to be the ultimate fantasy of every tentacle-rape-hentai that Desmond had ever seen. Not that he ever watched such crap, he would never!

 

Except a bazillion times more scary and real, because it was actually real. Nothing was left of the creature, not even a little blood.

Desmond continued staring at the guy.

 

“Yes. No. I don’t know. You  _ ate  _ it. With your body.”

 

“...Yeah. It’s...the same as me. Sort of. An older strain.” Alex had a lot to tell Desmond, but the man looked as if he was ready to piss himself after what he’d witnessed. Hopefully, he’d take it better than that, because the truth was far uglier than the little glimpse Desmond had gotten so far.

 

“It’s not safe here. I came to get you, to take you to Dana. Her place is...well, nothing is safe, but it’ll be easier to defend you both if you’re in one location.”

 

Alex came closer, slowly, all of his limbs human and normal.

 

Desmond raised a hand. “Can you stay there for a sec? I just wanna get up, okay? We can talk then.”

The guy was giving him the same sensations as he had when they first met, the hairs in his neck standing up and his whole body ready for a fight or flight response.

He managed to stand on both of his feet and felt oddly safer for being taller than the Zeus guy.

 

“Okay. Right. You came to get me. Still same form of traveling or can you turn into a helicopter now?” He tried to joke.

 

“I could go hijack one, but I think we’re on the clock. It’s quicker if I take you on my back.” Alex could see the apprehension in Desmond. It had been what, several weeks? The man probably heard what was going on in the city, maybe he even saw what the news were reporting, but he definitely did not know the truth. He couldn’t.

 

“Look, Desmond, I don’t have to tell you that it’s hell out there. You’ve seen that. I promise I’ll tell you what’s going on, and if you have questions, we can talk, but right now, there’s a pack of hunters missing their scout and they’ll be coming here to find him. Get on my back.”

 

“Fuck.” Desmond brought out, shaking his head, “This is all so fucking messed up. Like some horror movie. Do you know what that is?”

He kept on rambling as he went to cling to the guy’s back once more, but stopped instantly when they closed in on the edge of the building.

 

Knowing what kind of journey awaited him now, Desmond pressed his forehead against the back of the guy’s head.

“Thanks. For coming back for me. And for saving me, I would’ve been lunch for that guy if it weren’t for you. They say you’re the bad guy on the radio, but I know you’re not all bad. Even if you’re… different.”

 

“I’m pretty bad, Desmond.” Alex stepped off of the building, allowing both of them to fall for a moment before he pushed himself away from the wall and into a glide through the air. The streets were tiny and far at this height, but the air was sweetened by rotting flesh below. All of Manhattan smelled sick and dead, and Alex was always surprised to find living humans among the wreckage of the city. Desmond and Dana were all he cared about, and he knew he had to find some way to get them past Blackwatch. 

 

He knew what they did to survivors. They shot them as ruthlessly as the zombies under Greene’s control. It was a war, and the civilians were nothing but collateral.

 

“I caused all of this. Alex Mercer, the man you loved, he started this whole shitshow. And now, I have to clean it up.”

 

Desmond decided it was probably unwise to correct the man and tell him that he hadn’t been in love with Alex. Okay, maybe a little crush, perhaps even more than that, but being in love sounded weird.

 

Instead he focused on clinging to the guy’s form and talking into the fabric of his hood. The oddly warm fabric of his hood.

 

“Alex started it? How? Wasn’t he going to be some sort of whistleblower?”

 

Was this Alex’ plan? Infect all of Manhattan to make the world see what happened?

It sounded like Zeus knew more than he did almost three weeks ago and logically, more than Desmond as well.

Which, incidentally, also made it very unlikely that he needed Desmond for anything. He wasn’t going to ask him about it, happy for now that he had gotten out of the sticky situation earlier. Surely, it couldn’t get worse like that, wherever the guy was bringing him now.

 

They passed by a building covered in fleshy flaps and pustules and Desmond rectified his earlier thought instantly. It could get worse.

 

“What the fuck is that down there?”

 

“It’s a hive. There’s a bitch queen that goes with that shit as well. Calls herself my mother, but I’m not really a family man.” Alex had lost his curiosity with every mind consumed, every memory brought to light. He knew so much more now that he almost wished he could go back to being a blank slate. Desmond was the most pleasant aspect of the late Alex Mercer’s life.

 

“She’s battling it out with Blackwatch, who are here to clean up the mess. I guess I did blow the whistle. So hard that Manhattan turned into a zombie apocalypse.”

 

“Wow, yeah. Didn’t think he could blow that hard. Certainly never did with me.” The words fell out of Desmond’s mouth as if he was chatting along with a guy he’d known for ages. That this was a biological killing machine and that he should better not make it angry seemed to have fallen out of his brain momentarily.

When he noticed his little slipup, he cleared his throat, trying to focus on the topic.

  
“So, there’s a lady trying to spread the zombie apocalypse around and Blackwatch is trying to get rid off her. And you’re trying to get both of them to stop?”

 

“Something like that. I need to take her out before she runs the rest of the world over with her shit. And if I let anyone in Blackwatch get away, you can bet your ass they’ll try to make this happen again, under their control. They won’t learn, and it’s up to me to do something about it.”

Alex didn’t have an easy task ahead of him, and Desmond was, technically, not going to be helpful, but Alex also had an attachment to the man that he didn’t want to ignore. It made him feel human to care for Dana and Desmond, and Alex didn’t want to lose touch with that. Not yet.

 

“I was kind of an asshole, huh? Shit, Dana said so too. A lousy brother and a shitty boyfriend, on top of being a fucking narcissist and psycho. Is there anything I did right as a human?”

 

Really, all of this, Blackwatch, Blacklight, Greene, it was karma. He was convinced of it. 

 

Having the guy repeatedly refer to himself as Alex was weird to Desmond, who still had that picture of Alex being shot down ingrained in his memory.

 

“You… I mean, Alex, he wasn’t my boyfriend. I think he would’ve rather shot himself than ever saying so. He, uh, wasn’t very attached in the common sense if that’s what you mean by psycho.”

 

The new Alex sounded like he took on responsibility, like he actually tried to be human somehow. More than his deceased predecessor ever did.

Desmond liked that about him, he appreciated that despite the fact he was very much inhuman, he tried to have human values and some degree of morals. Probably more than most humans.

 

“I didn’t know Alex for very long, so if you want that question answered you’re better off asking his sister. My answers would all be kinda, well, explicit, really. We didn’t really talk much in the conversation-style of things.”

 

“I was talking about a woman named Karen, but she was a piece of work too. She blew the whistle on me. She was the reason I was shot. He. Look, Desmond, I know I’m not the same, but I am Alex Mercer for all intent and purpose. I know what he knew, I remember his life like I never had another. And you were in it. You were...the last stop on the line before I jumped in front of the bus.”

Alex only paused to jump off of a particularly high ledge, his arms securely around Desmond’s legs as he landed on the street below, a shield forming out of his shoulder as he charged through a mass of infected until he could run up another high building.

 

“Oh. Karen, yeah. You, he, never really mentioned her. Think you broke up with her at some point though I’m not sure if it was before or after we hooked up for the first time.”

 

Desmond believed him if he said he remembered Alex’ life. Even if he wasn’t Alex, couldn’t be him, he looked like him and had all the relevant memories. This was… new Alex, Alex reloaded so to say, even if it was macabre.

The Alex he knew wasn’t oddly caring like this one was and he certainly couldn’t turn his shoulder into a shield and run up buildings. Or eat giant monsters with his tentacles.

 

What Alex had said stuck with him though.

“Last stop on the line, huh?” So Alex had cared about him, enough at least to put him up there on the care list with his sister. That meant something, right?

“When you were human...” Desmond began, acclimatising himself with seeing this guy as just some mindwiped, evolved form of Alex, “What did you think about me? I mean, everything I got from you, him, was that I was a particularly nice piece of cake he felt like eating for a while. Not that I’m complaining, he tasted nice, too.”

 

“You might want to rephrase that if you’re going to mention it in the same breath as my eating habits,” Alex’ dark sense of humor had infected the viral reincarnation of himself very thoroughly, but given that he had a hellhole as a life, that wasn’t surprising. 

 

He reached the zone of Manhattan that was still relatively clean, and he breathed in deeply. Even the air was better here. They were not far from Dana’s little place now, and he could slow down, even stop on one, flat roof to contemplate Desmond’s question.

 

“You gave me hope. Hope that he, I, could...live normally. It sounds very stupid, given what I knew, but that was the case. That’s what I remember. You were proof that not everything was fucked.”

 

Under normal circumstances, it would have been weird to have a conversation like this clinging to the back of the man that he was talking to, but this was as far from normal circumstances as it could get.

Desmond hung on his back like a koala once again.

 

Alex slowed down, obviously to contemplate the answer. That too was different. Alex Mercer had always had an answer to everything and mostly, the answer cut sharper than any knife.

 

New Alex’ answer warmed his heart instead of cutting it.

“That’s… surprisingly sweet. Wow. I wanted to, you know, show him… show  _ you _ that things can be okay even if you think everything is fucked. Didn’t manage in the end and looking at the final outcome, I’m sure I could’ve done nothing.”

 

“I didn’t say I was hoping to run over and start a life with you. It was just...it was a good thing at a shit time. Made me sure that I couldn’t stand working for Gentek any longer. One way or another, I did what I threatened to do. It just...escalated. And you and Dana are stuck in the middle of it, but I’m gonna get you out. I promise.”

 

It was the least he could do to ensure their safety and clear the stage. Neither Blackwatch or Greene could use his human relationships against him then, and he could truly let the world see what he could do. And put an end to this madness.

 

“Yeah. Okay, makes sense. What’s your sister like? You never told me about her.”

It was better to change the topic. Alex didn’t seem to be wanting to talk anymore about sappy things and Desmond’s curiosity in that regard was sated for now.

 

The sister, Dana, seemed like a good subject to talk about since he was going to meet her very soon. And if Alex wanted to bring them out together, well, then he’d have to put up with her, even if she was as much of a cactus as her late brother.

 

Alex’ words he lodged into his head though. It felt good that he’d done something good for Alex before he died a cruel death.

 

“She’s...tough. Sticks her nose where it doesn’t belong, but knows how to handle herself. She came to New York to study journalism, and...I got in contact. I think I was going to tell her the truth too.”

 

And then he’d died, in a very untimely matter. He should never have involved Dana, but he understood why he’d called her; who else would believe him but the sister he’d raised? 

Desmond was a little quiet, so Alex used the time to fill the silence with more proof of his memories.

 

“I used to build pillow forts for her. Watched horror movies with her. I was all she had when our mother ditched us. And now, she’s living in a fucking horror movie. I have to get her out, Desmond. And you have to look out for her.”

 

Oh. So not only was Alex planning on getting them out together, he was also entrusting his little sister to him.

Someone he obviously cared about a lot.

Desmond wasn’t sure if he could take on that responsibility.

 

“I barely manage to look out for myself… I’m not exactly a good caretaker, but I can try. ‘S the least I can do, I guess, until you’re done with your, well, work here. For getting me out and so on.”

 

They landed on some roof and Alex released his hold of him.

“Here?”

 

“Yeah.” Alex let Desmond climb from his shoulders before he knocked on the door of a very plain looking little hut on top of a building. It was the apartment of some friends of Dana’s, and it was very easy to overlook. It wasn’t the most secure building in Manhattan, but it had a kind of guard dog that nothing got past. 


	9. Chapter 9

The door opened and Dana let her brother and his bounty into the small apartment. Rebecca and Lucy were going to be pissed about the whole apocalypse situation, but hell, at least they weren’t actually here.

 

“Who’s this, Alex?” Dana looked Desmond over critically, but she couldn’t put a name on the handsome stranger. He must have been important if Alex had brought him here, but he hadn’t really said anything before he left, except...

 

“Oh shit, is this the  _ guy _ ? Your boyfriend?  _ Desmond _ ?”

 

“S’not a boyfriend thing, Dana, just...drop it.” Alex moved past her to the computer, sullen in just about every definition of the word as Dana held her hand out for Desmond to shake or high five or something.

 

Desmond went for the most insecure high-five he’d ever performed.

“Hi, yeah, I’m Desmond. Hi, uh, Dana?” He shook her hand for good measure, “Glad to meet you. Didn’t know you existed until about a minute ago.” That was a little over the top, but it got the general gist of it. Alex Mercer had not told him anything about a sister.

 

His eyes wandered from Dana’s excited expression to Alex’ back. Why did he sound so sullen about it? They had been fuckbuddies with some form of hope attached as he now knew, that was it. No need to be moping over it.

Except that Desmond liked the ring of it. Boyfriend. Not that he wanted one, but if he had to have one… Alex wasn’t half bad. Especially this version. Nevermind the inhumanity of the guy, but he was actually kinda nice.

 

“I got to know him like two months ago. We had a, uh,  _ thing _ .” Desmond shrugged. It sounded really dumb. As if he had no actual reason to be here except for Alex’ whims.

 

“Yeah, I heard. A doomsday sort of fuckbuddy thing is what I thought. My brother wasn’t really into relationships. Well, until now, because this guy mentioned you quite a lot.” Dana grinned. It was nice to have some human company in this fucked up situation, and it was also nice to have further proof that her brother wasn’t a monster. Much the opposite; it was kind of cute that he was embarrassed now, but mentioned Desmond so casually before as if he was a natural extension of his life.

 

For a bloodthirsty monster, Alex was much, much more open about his feelings than the human Alex had ever been.

 

“Yeah okay, enough Dana. Just tell him the plan. I’m going on patrol.”

 

“Have a nice dinner.” Dana waved her brother out of the door and locked all five locks after Alex was gone.

 

Desmond looked after Alex, then watched Dana lock the door behind him.

Until now, she’d said. It sounded like this Alex somehow thought more of the connection between them than his human predecessor. If it wasn’t so weird to think about, Desmond would have found it exciting and also flattering to be cherished by a creature like he was now.

 

“He ate one of those big ones that was coming at me earlier. Shit, this is all so fucked up. How are you holding up?” He asked, quite glad about the company after nearly twenty days of being alone.

Desmond looked around. There were maps and photos and texts on the wall, a working computer and some steaming pot on the stove. Electricity and warm food seemed like the perfect base to keep on existing.

 

“How’d you… react when he did the thing?” Desmond raised his fingers and wiggled them, a poor imitation of Alex’ biomass shifting.

 

“I freaked out. But then again, he kind of punched through one of those Blackwatch jackasses when he first showed up, so I got a crash-course.” Dana inspected Desmond. Well-built, tall, nice face, scarred, full lips, kinda soulful eyes. She approved of her brother’s taste, but it was vaguely more important that Desmond brought something to the table outside of Alex’ sentimentality; otherwise, he’d be a drain on Dana’s precious resources.

 

“I mean, I have power, internet and hot water. It’s almost a vacation.” She chuckled without any real humor in her tone. Their situation was too fucked to find things funny, but it felt good to talk to another survivor.

 

“Alex brings me food, shit to repair the generator...it’s how I know he’s still my brother, even under all the weird shit. He was always kind of a dick, but one that took care of me. It wasn’t so hard to believe him after I realized that. Want some coffee?”

 

“Coffee sounds amazing.” Desmond answered, thinking about what Dana had just told him. Her words just proved that this Alex seemed to be a nicer variant of his own self, a nicer one that also turned part of his body into deadly weapons to murder things with. It was kind of a conundrum and Desmond was glad he wasn’t the only one caught in it.

“He punched through a guy? Holy fuck. Did he go hopping off of buildings with you, too? I nearly threw up.”

 

Dana handed him the coffee and Desmond sat down on a nearby chair as to not be in the way.

“Amazing. Thanks. I never knew I loved coffee this much, but I do now.”

 

He took a few sips of the hot brew then eyed Dana again. She vaguely looked like Alex, had the same kind of fine facial features, the cheekbones and the slim nose.

If he’d seen her somewhere in the street, she would’ve been an attractive young woman he’d definitely have flirted with if she’d come into his bar.

 

Not that he would dare now, it would mess up all sorts of things.

 

“Alex said there’s a plan? To escape?”

 

“Did he? That fucker. I told him I wasn’t leaving until this was all done, but he doesn’t fucking listen.” Dana poured herself a generous mug and flung herself on the worn couch. It had a sizeable dent where Alex sometimes napped, but she doubted that the state of the furniture would really matter in the future. It wasn’t like anyone would be living in Manhattan after the zombie apocalypse.

 

“See, he wants to take on that Greene woman first, then take out Blackwatch. I told him that there’s no way they’re just gonna let him kick their asses, but he thinks he’s invincible, just because he can drop from the Empire State without any trouble.”

 

Dana stirred sugar aggressively into her mug.

 

“It’s just like him. He never accepts help until things are fucked. And right now? They’re really fucked, and all he wants to do is put you and me somewhere nice and safe instead of letting anyone help him.”

 

Desmond understood what Alex had been hinting at earlier. Dana was eager and potentially stubborn, trying to help her brother in something she would never be a help in.

 

“Have you been outside recently?” He asked, slowly, and watched her shake her head and frown at the question.

“If you’d been you’d know that there’s no way we would be able to help him. We’d be a liability. There’s fucked up things out there, whole buildings covered in this fleshy shit, thousands of these Infected guys running around. We’d be a snack on two legs, Alex would have to protect us and potentially get in danger himself. If that’s even possible.”   
Desmond met Dana’s eyes.

“Sorry to shoot you down like this, but we cannot help him. He’s kinda the only one who can do this and I think he knows that. ‘S why he has to try, even if he doesn’t know if he can make it.”

 

“Alright alright, you could at least wait until I’m out of the room to suck his dick.” Dana laughed it off. Maybe Desmond had a point. She hadn’t been outside of the apartment for at least two weeks now, and she hadn’t touched street in longer than that. Alex wouldn’t let her.

 

“When you’re done with that coffee, take a shower. You smell like outside.”

 

-x-

 

“How is he doing?”

  
Desmond wasn’t exactly holding himself up with saying hello or exchanging other pleasantries. He’d delivered the third sample to Ragland, only to round up on the slab Alex was still on. The thing on his back looked bad, like a living tumor of sorts.   
Their plan to escape had essentially been postponed when Alex had come in with this bubble on his back that gradually got worse until they got here and the doctor was actually willing to help them out.

Ragland he was called and Desmond didn’t want to trust him, but had to, even when he insisted that if they wanted to cure Alex of the Bloodtox, there was no other way than to get samples from Greene’s creations.

All eyes had been on Desmond since Alex was groaning with pain and writhing on the slab and Desmond only felt like all the responsibility of the world rested on his shoulders when they equipped him with what measly stuff they had so he could sneak out and get a tissue sample.

 

A  _ tissue sample _ .

 

How he’d done it the first two times around, Desmond had no idea. It seemed like more luck than skill, but by the third time, he’d gotten used to it, had learned how to hide from the Infected, how to confuse them even if they sniffed him out and most of all, how to get that damned sample.

 

Now, all that mattered was that Alex felt better. Finally, he could return the favour, could help him along.

 

Ragland took the sample and went to work immediately and Desmond rounded up on the slab.

Alex was calm now, had his eyes closed. Was he sleeping?

 

Desmond touched his arm, squeezing it light.

“We’re getting there.” He muttered quietly, “You can count on me.”

 

Alex never slept. It was a human habit to close his eyes when he was laying still, but his viral existence didn’t need rest. He wasn’t an animal of any kind, and his body had no pre-defined organs or life-cycle. 

He felt like an alien at the best of times, but at least he’d been free to do as he pleased, to hunt as he would, to punish as he saw fit.

 

And then, Blackwatch had stepped its game up. Bloodtox, they called it. The scientist in Alex had known what it had to be, a cancer developed for his viral cells that had them reproduce imperfectly, keeping him from his state of constant regeneration. He couldn’t dictate his shape, at first. Then, he couldn’t form abstract shapes with his arms. Lastly, and that had been the part when Desmond had to step up as Ragland’s errand boy, he’d lost the ability to run fast and leap high. He was crippled to mere human functionality, and it was not enough.

 

He couldn’t remember how long he’d been here, but Desmond’s voice was a pleasant change to hear.

 

“...Desmond?” he rasped, eyes closed, throat dry. The bloodtox put him in a constant state of exhaustion.

 

“Yeah.” Desmond said, happy to hear his voice even if it was quiet and tired, “Yeah, I’m here. Look, we’re getting there. Two more samples or something.”

 

Seeing Alex like this, a mere shadow of himself, was unacceptable. It made Desmond worry, did not leave him alone. Ragland seemed to not care all that much, he was on about Alex was being used for some antibody shit that Desmond didn’t get, instead of actually caring for Alex himself.

Dana was worried, too, but she was busy looking at the files on late Alex Mercer’s computer to be truly involved.

And so Desmond ran back and forth, trying to get everything Ragland asked of him.

 

“How do you feel?”

 

“Like shit.” Alex cracked open one eye and regretted it instantly. Everything was in thermal vision, and Desmond was quite bright and red, he must have come from a recent run or climb through the city. Alex despised being this useless. He hadn’t been hurt or powerless since waking up in a morgue, and honestly, it freaked him out that something had been developed so quickly to cripple him.

 

He reached out for Desmond and his hand was met with warm, human body. Alex wanted to pull him closer.

 

“Has...Greene...are you and Dana ok?”

 

The warmth of Alex’ hand was seeping through his shirt quickly. He’d discarded the hoodie earlier, it needed some disinfectant and a wash after his recent endeavour.

He reached for the hand and took it, holding it in his own.

 

“Yeah, we’re fine. Don’t worry about it, okay? You focus on battling that Bloodtox thing.”

 

Alex was still trying to open his eyes, so Desmond reached out to put a hand on his forehead and smooth down. “Just keep calm, Alex. It’s going to be fine, I’m sure. I will get the samples.”

 

“You...you’re going out there?” Alex opened his eyes but only saw the darkness of Desmond’s palm. It was pathetic that he couldn’t shrug off the hand, and it was sentimental that he didn’t want to try, either.

 

“You called me Alex. Almost sounded like you believe me, too.”

 

Desmond removed the hand, a small smile on his face that Alex could not see.

 

He squeezed his arm again, then stepped back. “I’ll be back soon. And you’ll be rid off this soon after.”

 


	10. Chapter 10

Getting the last sample had been a close call, but Desmond made it, smeared with various fluids that made him be glad for the mask covering his face.

As soon as Dana had doused him with disinfectant, he pulled the mask off.

“I got it. Ragland? I hope you’re ready.”

 

He handed the sample over to the doctor and let him do his work as per usual. Desmond took his place next to Alex.

“Hey.” He said, softly enough for Dana to give him a quirked eyebrow which he pointedly ignored.

Yeah, well, maybe he’d grown attached to this virus in human shape. Yeah, maybe he could accept that this was Alex, in a new form that was not only ridiculously attractive but also kind of a friendly guy. If he wanted to. “Final sample is here. It’ll be gone soon.”

 

“Good. Just cut it out of me.” Alex moved sluggishly as Ragland prepared an absurdly large needle with the mixture that would hopefully cure Alex and ensure that all three of his human companions would escape this nightmare that Manhattan had become.

 

“Roll over,” Ragland ordered, Alex obeyed, his face in Desmond’s lap, practically, his hands on the hospital bed. It may well splinter under his fingers if his strength returned.

 

Ragland looked to Desmond as he poised the needle.

“Hold him down as best you can.”

 

_ Hold him down. Hold Zeus down. Yeah, right. _

 

Desmond gave a disbelieving little scoffing noise, but with Ragland raising the oversized syringe like that, he had no other choice but to obey.

With Alex’ face pressed into his left thigh, Desmond had a good hold of his shoulders.

 

“Hold on, Alex.” He said quietly, “I’m pretty sure that’s gonna hurt but you’ll be fine.”

 

Keeping him pressed against him like that was another thing Desmond hadn’t thought he’d ever wanted to do again, just like calling him Alex. Both things that kind of… changed. It wasn’t only that calling him Alex and little touches shared between them here and there was kind of a secret between them that they didn’t speak of, it was also that it made Desmond feel genuinely good.

 

Alex was a model patient, growling into Desmond’s thigh as Ragland stabbed the cancerous parasite on Alex’ back with his syringe. He pumped all of his solution in, then stepped back. The parasite was shrinking, allowing the biomass that formed Alex’ back and jacket to return to those intended shapes.

 

But that didn’t mean Alex was back to his full strength immediately. He breathed out deeply into Desmond’s jeans, oddly damp as if he was sweating. 

 

“Is he gonna be okay?” Dana too had stood by her brother’s bedside, anxious about his condition. When Ragland nodded and the parasite shrank away, she brushed a hand over Alex’ hooded head.

 

“Look at this big drama queen baby. Keep an eye on him, Des, I’m gonna get the backup generators running. Get some light in here that isn’t a fucking torch.”

 

Ragland withdrew too, citing that he needed a nap and deserved one after fixing a bioweapon turned person. Soon enough, Desmond and Alex were alone.

 

Desmond had not let go off Alex’ shoulders until both of them had excused themselves. He checked if they were really alone, then raised a hand to gently pat Alex’ head with.

“The thing’s gone from your back. I suppose you don’t feel all that much better, but yea. It’s working. Ragland said you should be back to your former glory in no time.”

 

Alex was still laying there, face down.

“Do you want to turn around? Alex?” When he didn’t answer, Desmond’s tone got worried.

 

“I’m remembering what pain feels like.” Alex muttered, lifting his head only enough to see if his vision had returned to normal. To his satisfaction, it had, and he could make out each strand of Desmond’s hair. It had grown a little bit since he first met him, and it had some soft quality to it that suggested it would, perhaps, be nice to touch. He resisted the impulse, instead indulging in resting his head on a pleasant, human pillow.

 

“I don’t like it.”

 

The comment had Desmond chuckle.

“Let me know when you’re done with that.” He smoothed his hand over the place on Alex’ shoulder where the Bloodtox had been.

Alex made a noise at that and when Desmond repeated the motion, he made it again.

  
“That good?”

 

There was a small movement on his thigh that Desmond interpreted as confirmation, so he rubbed a bit harder, kind of like a one sided massage.

It was weird, thinking about it. Here he was, in the middle of the Red Zone, with a wanted terrorist face down on his lap, groaning with pleasure as he massaged his back that had just been cured from some sort of futuristic cancer.

 

“That was some shit out there, I assure you.” Desmond began to talk, “I mean I know you know, but like, it’s like someone opened a portal to hell and let out all these… things.”

 

“Her name’s Elizabeth Greene. I saw her vomit out a hunter,” Alex talked with Desmond’s thigh as he enjoyed the massage. It didn’t really do anything since he had no classical strands of muscle, but the gesture and touch soothed the new biomass settling into place. He liked being caressed, and he liked that Desmond wasn’t afraid to touch him after he’d seen Alex consume multiple people. It took a special sort of trust that Alex had somehow established with Desmond, though he couldn’t remember how.

 

“It was the most disgusting thing I’ve ever seen. And I eat Blackwatch operatives by the daily.”

 

Hearing Alex speak about eating people was something Desmond had grown used to surprisingly fast. You would think that hearing someone say that would creep you out for more than just a few times, but apparently, if you lived in the Manhattan Red Zone under ZEUS’ personal protection, circumstances were dire enough for you to just roll with it.

 

Desmond continued his ‘massage’ of the biomass on his shoulder for a while longer until the firm resistance you would expect from a man’s shoulder clad in a leather jacket turned into more of a jelly-like structure. He pressed his hand into it only for it to turn into tiny tendrils that hugged his hand.

 

“You’re liquifying.” Desmond commented, trusting Alex, watching the process, “This normal?”

 

“Yeah. It’s like flexing,” Alex let the little tendrils slither over Desmond’s hand. They were as warm as the rest of Alex himself, and wiggled as if they had minds of their own. Nothing pierced Desmond’s skin, nothing began to devour him. Alex had good control over his monstrous existence at this point, and Desmond was too precious to eat.

 

“Are you all packed up? Next step is getting you and Dana out. Oh, and Ragland. I guess.”

Alex grew a little heavier on Desmond, but he had no intention of moving. Physical affection was a novel, human thing, and he’d enjoy it for as long as Desmond offered it.

 

“I’ve been packed up since before we got here, don’t worry about that. Get better first, then we’ll see.”

Desmond felt him growing heavier and that was a good sign, right? That meant something was going right with his biomass. As a human, Alex hadn’t been a feather despite his slender build but like this? It was impossible to move him if he did not want to, as if he was made out of concrete.

 

He moved his hand along the tendrils, squeezed them between his fingers gently and rubbed the black biomass beneath his palm. When he tried to withdraw his hand, the tendrils curled around his fingers, holding him back, pulling him in.

Desmond chuckled, amused by their antics. It took him a moment to realise the truth behind it.

  
“You  _ like _ this.” He stated, sounding baffled.

 

“...So what?” Alex wondered why it took Desmond so long to understand some things, and then he also possessed the ability to grasp others immediately. Of course Alex liked this. Hadn’t he shown each of his human companions some form of compassion? Wasn’t it clear yet that he kind of enjoyed some human things?

 

The flare of defensiveness settled almost immediately and Alex’ voice dipped into something like shame.

“You can stop if you want.”

 

“But I don’t want to.” Desmond assured him, wondering why Alex got so defensive about it. When he sounded ashamed about it, he followed the urge to use the other hand on him as well, even if it was only reaching for Alex’ hand on his side and pulling it to rest on his thigh so Desmond could comfortably hold it.

 

“I’m just glad you do, I guess. Well, you remember how I got to know you. I always thought you were a little bit of a cactus that had a baby with a nettle. And there I was, pondering exactly how soft your hair was if I ran my fingers through it. And I mean softly, not like pulling it.”

 

It was a little odd to tell that to Alex, but the guy was laying face-down on his thigh and they were alone so why the hell not?   
Desmond knew that there was something up with his feelings for the man, virus or not, because while this Alex was different to the one before, it didn’t exactly stop him from developing the biggest thing in history for him. Much the opposite, actually.

 

“And you’re wondering why I’m not like that anymore?” Alex preferred this way of conversation. He had too many people in his head to claim he couldn’t read human facial expressions, and he was quite tired of seeing the vague grief and regret in Desmond’s face when he looked at him. When Desmond saw a man that had died in Alex’ features. A man that had only vaguely cared for Desmond, and not enough to not do the crazy, selfish shit he did. 

 

Sometimes, Alex felt nothing but jealousy when he considered Alex Mercer the human, who had made mistake after mistake and still had people that cared that he was dead.

 

“I wanna say no to make this easier, but like… yeah, I think I do. I mean, not like outright wondering because I vaguely know why it’s like that, but that doesn’t mean I’m not surprised when you’re different from him. Pleasantly surprised if I might say so.”

 

Desmond left the tendrils behind and ran his flat hand over Alex’ entire back, up to his neck where he gently rubbed the back of it. Even through the not-fabric he could feel the slight bumps of Alex’ spine. The virus really had replicated everything perfectly.

 

“Sometimes I wonder if I would’ve grown to like him the same way I like you. Doubt it, kinda.”

 

“He was a fucked up guy. You shouldn’t think about him like that. You couldn’t have saved him, or anything like that.” Alex finally moved a little instead of impersonating a flat pancake. He shifted to his side, without losing Desmond’s touch, but looking up at him instead of speaking to his lap.

 

“You wanna know what makes us different? Me and him?”

 

In order to let him turn, Desmond had removed his hands temporarily, only to put them back on Alex’ shoulders, fingers squeezing what felt like relaxed muscle under layers of clothing. Desmond knew it wasn’t, but it was still nice to have the illusion.

He looked down at that ridiculously handsome face, even if this Alex retained the blue and red around his eyes from being overworked and the pale skin.

 

It shouldn’t surprise him to feel his heart do a little flip when the guy looked at him, it had been like that for a while, but it still did.

 

“Yeah, what?”

 

“He was afraid. Afraid, selfish and angry. I’m just angry.” 

It wasn’t quite that simple. Alex’ emotions had been a complex, shitty mess that the new incarnation of the man, the virus, the monster, didn’t have the willpower to untangle. Alex was afraid of so many things; losing his wealth, his reputation, his status that he worked so hard to obtain. He cared little for people, and justified his poor choices with the generic excuse of progress. He knew he wasn’t looking at a cure for cancer when Redlight had come into his hands. He knew he was going to do much more harm with the virus he made stronger out of pride in his work. Alex Mercer was a weak man who allowed his fears to be driven by his pride and ambition. In the end, it had killed him. And it revived him. 

 

It was like judging his creator; pointless and to no end. Alex had no more time for his human past, he was too busy fixing the mess he’d made.

 

“And I understand that some sacrifices are too great to be made.” Alex’ eyes lingered on Desmond.

 

“Honestly,” Desmond began, then was distracted by the blue of Alex’ gaze on him. The guy was so intense. He’d always been that, even as a human, but now that he was essentially Alex Mercer’s biological nuke stuffed into one bucket of whoopass, the effect was at least doubled if not tripled.

 

He ran his fingers along what looked like the buttons of Alex’ shirt until they met skin. They lingered there for a moment, before Desmond remembered he was going to say something and continued.

  
“I think you care more for being human, having morals and so on than he did when I met him. He didn’t care, you do. Dana appreciates it, I know that for a fact. And, well, if you wanna count my opinion on the matter, I do, too.”

While he’d been talking, Desmond had ran his hands up to frame Alex’ beautiful face. He wondered if the hood actually came off. Not that he wanted to take it off per say, but maybe this Alex would finally allow him to touch those soft curls.

 

“But you know that I only care because I’m responsible, right?” Alex watched Desmond as he kept track of where his hands wandered. Over his clothing, which was as much part of Alex as the skin that Desmond craved. His body’s scent changed subtly, and Alex decided not to comment on it. It was flattering, in a way, that Desmond still found him very attractive, and that he was very obvious about it too.

 

“I’m fixing this because I can. I’m the only one. I don’t give a shit about being a hero, but I sure as fuck don’t want to be responsible for ending the damn world.”

 

“I’m not a philosopher or anything, but isn’t that what being a hero is about? Actually feeling responsible while not caring that what you’re doing makes you a hero?”

 

Desmond was still looking at him, but he did hook his fingertips into the side of Alex’ hood. He was sure that the guy had every power in the world to stop him from pulling it down just a little bit so he could have a glimpse of that hair human Alex never let him touch gently.

 

“I’m not saying you’re a hero because I’m not qualified to hand out that badge, but I’m pretty sure you’re trying to do the right thing.”

 

Perhaps he could distract Alex long enough so he could actually succeed with his mission of taking the hood off.

 

Alex did nothing to stop Desmond from what he was doing. The way his biomass imitated clothing gave him actual layers, so there was a distinction between skin and imitated cloth. When Desmond tugged the hood down, Alex Mercer’s soft, curly dark hair came into view, but the virus in human form had other thoughts to consider than his looks.

 

How could Desmond be so sure? How could he make such a big matter so simple? There were so many layers to this whole, fucked up situation, and Desmond seemed so at peace with it. Alex almost envied him. Maybe things were simpler when you weren’t the reason for a potentially fatal zombie apocalypse.

 

“Do you think that redeems me from what he did? What I did?”

 

“No, I don’t think there’s a thing or person that can redeem you. In the world’s eyes sure, probably, but like… Redemption’s a tricky thing, I think you only get to the core of it if you are redeemed in your own eyes.”

 

Alex let him remove the hood. For a while, Desmond just looked at the curls falling into his face. They gave him an oddly innocent flair about him compared to the almost thuggish look he got from wearing the hood up all the time.

 

“Do you want to be redeemed? Do you care? Does it matter as long as you know you’re doing the right thing?”

 

“...I don’t know. I think I want to fix...to do what I can to fix what I fucked up. I haven’t really thought about what the world will think of me. Blackwatch already painted me as a terrorist and monster. Nothing I do will show the world otherwise, and I don’t think I’m doing any of this to disprove that. At least, not to the world. Maybe it’s for you, for Dana, and for me. To prove I’m still me. Does any of this make sense or is it just shitty babbling?” Desmond’s hands were invitingly close. One of them was in his hair, but the other lingered near his cheek. Alex leaned into it. Why not? He cared if Desmond was alive or not. Regardless of what Alex had previously thought of the man, he was helping as if it was a natural thing to do. He accepted what Alex was without batting an eyelid anymore. It was remarkable. And it was unique.

 

Alex Mercer had been a shitty man, but at least he had good taste.

 

Alex’ cheek was warm against his hand. It put a gentle smile on Desmond’s face to see him lean into it like that. Carefully, he moved his thumb to run over his skin. Well, biomass appearing like skin.

 

“No, it makes sense. You seemed pretty lost before you knew what you wanted to do. Now you’re onto the first thing you found. Maybe once you’re done with that and once you’ve found your personal redemption, you can go on and, you know, actually live a life.”

 

Desmond smoothed Alex’ hair back, then combed his fingers through messy black curls.

  
  


“You’re further than I am, you know. I took the other route. Where you, Alex, decided to put an end to things, I just ran away as far as I could.”

 

Alex contemplated what Desmond attributed to him. He never made that conscious choice, but he’d said it himself, just moments ago, hadn’t he? He did make the choice to fix the mess he was part of. 

And he also wanted to protect those that he’d involved, purposefully or not.

Desmond was wise beyond his years with his simple, concise understanding of what was happening. He wasn’t losing himself to the deeper meaning of Alex’ inhumanity. He took him at face value, judged him on his actions, not their implications. 

Alex felt grateful, and that was a new emotion to him.

 

“Will you show me? How you lived your life before? It’s not like I have plans after all of this is over.”

 

Desmond snorted, but not derogatively, just a little amused. “I was a bartender in a shitty bar. You know that. And before that… well, I’m not going back there voluntarily.”

He let his eyes wander over Alex.

“That’s not your question though, I get it. To give you an answer: Yeah, totally. I’ll show you how to live the most boring, normal life while trying to run away from your past or something. You and me both.”

He grinned down at Alex.

“Sound good?”

 

“Yeah. I’m holding you to that.” Alex offered something approximating a smile in response. It looked terrible on his face and he gave it up quickly, but hopefully, Desmond had understood that it was no joke. Alex had some idea of what humans did, of course, he’d had thousands of memories to look into for that purpose, but he didn’t want to live out someone else’s life. If anything, he wanted one with someone who fully knew what he was and liked him anyway. That was probably the pinnacle of human desires a virus could have.

 

And it gave him something that made this all worth it. Alex could spend every hour after this clusterfuck learning about human emotions and how someone even as damaged as Mercer could have them. If a sociopath could do it, then so could he.

 

Desmond’s grin didn’t fade, even when he pulled the hood back in place.

Having someone he liked at his side in the future sounded way better than living alone in his hidey-hole.

Especially if it was Alex. He’d wondered about it himself, but something about the guy made him fuzzy on the inside. He might not even be a man, but something else entirely, but that Desmond could put aside with surprising ease. To him, Alex, this Alex, was someone he was drawn to, more than he’d been to the dead Alex. This iteration of him was funny, caring, had an adorable soft spot for people he remembered fondly and a knack for being very curious despite his vast knowledge of things.

Yeah, if they got out of here and met again somewhere, Desmond would most definitely make sure Alex held him to that.

 


	11. Chapter 11

“Get in.”

 

The helicopter looked entirely out of place and it dominated the rooftop of the third or fourth hideout that Alex had herded his small flock of human friends to. It was another civilian building, and the roof was definitely not made as a helipad, but it would have to do. This machine was made for two, maybe three people at best, so Ragland, Dana and Desmond would just have to cram in tight.

 

They did cram in tight. Dana in the middle, Ragland and Desmond to the sides, they managed to squeeze into the small bench in the back.

To Desmond it was still amazing how Alex could just fly an attack helicopter like it was child’s play, but that was probably due to his viral setup, too. He’d explained it once, consuming people made him have all their abilities, but that was so abstract that Desmond still admired it with what ease Alex knew how to get the damn thing to fly.

Even if he looked like one of the soldiers now himself, with that uniform on and the mask.

 

“This a Blackwatch heli?” He asked casually, but before Alex could answer (because of course it was one), “Smells like Blackwatch in here.”

Dana elbowed him and Desmond grinned. At least make this scary trip a little bit funny.

 

The helicopter went undisturbed for a whole long time, even when they passed other helis, Alex just answered their hailing neutrally.

 

It was easy to fly helicopters, as easy as if Alex had spent his life learning the skills for it. Well, someone had, and their life was his to use now. Funny how Blackwatch was providing him with the most potent tools to defend against them. Alex would dwell on the irony of that some other time.

 

They were above the water, heading steadily for the Yellow Zone, also known as Brooklyn. From there, it should be much easier for the three of them to disappear from the city altogether. Ragland would rejoin his family and swiftly forget everything he saw. Dana and Desmond would run as far as humanly possible, and then, they could look back at the Outbreak from a safe distance. 

 

“You know what to do if you get detained?” Alex asked, voice tense, eyes glued to the approaching shoreline.

 

But his question would not get an answer, because the second he saw the second helicopter so close to them, he knew something was wrong. The first shot fired missed as Alex pulled their heli to the side, making the whole thing narrowly miss the other. There’d been no warning, and Alex saw the telltale hovering drone of a detector behind the other Black Hawk.

 

“Desmond, get to Brooklyn, I’ll distract them!” Alex pulled open the door without a moment’s hesitation, shifting back to his normal form with one of his arms becoming a claw, then extending towards the other helicopter like a grappling hook. Alex jumped off of their helicopter and swung to their attackers, landing on the cockpit like some kind of supersized insect.

There wasn’t much time to think.

When hell broke loose and Alex barked his order at him, Desmond had no time to stop and complain that he had no idea how to fly a Black Hawk.

 

He scrambled forward, trying to squeeze himself into the seat where Alex had just been as their heli, due to the missing pilot, was slowly starting to spiral around its own axis.

“Fuck!” Desmond yelped, looking at all the buttons in front of him, overwhelmed. He managed to get his hands on the levers and somehow made the helicopter stop spinning.

 

Outside, something exploded and it was the drone. The inside of the other heli was not visible through red smear on the inside of the window. No other sign from Alex.

 

Desmond remembered every movie ever he had seen helicopters being piloted in and hoped that it was enough to at least get the damn thing to move. He pushed the lever forward and the helicopter actually moved. Forward, but also down, but at least they were going somewhere.

 

“Holy shit.”

 

Alex couldn’t see outside past all the blood of the pilot. He was currently busy killing the gunner, who seemed to think a handgun on his person would be enough to keep ZEUS off of him. It was a bold assumption, and soon, his insides too were on the outside.

 

By the time Alex had killed the crew and used their radio to signal an all-clear for the Black Hawk over Brooklyn, the other helicopter had disappeared from his immediate sight. He saw no explosions, heard no chatter about a crash.

 

That had to be enough. He turned his new bird and choppered back to Manhattan. Now, it was time to take out Greene for good. With no one left at his side to hurt, she was doomed.

 

Somewhere over Brooklyn, Desmond managed to steer the helicopter into some area that looked free of people, some company’s backyard. How to land the thing he had no idea, but he tried. It ended up in some screeching of metal on asphalt and the rotorblades messing themselves up on the ground as the heli fell to the side.

Somehow, they had survived, Desmond thought as they left what was left of the Black Hawk and managed to find a way out of the compound.

Ragland disappeared once they’d made it, with only a few words and some good luck wishes. Which left only him and Dana.

 

“We should probably try and hide somewhere. You know a place?”

 

“Fuuuck. Look at that.” Dana and Desmond had already gotten some distance between themselves and the crashed Heli, but somehow, they’d ended back on a street near the water. The view of Manhattan was grim at best, patches, red as rust, sprawling across nearly every skyscraper.

 

“Red Zone, huh? I’m pretty sure they should have just called it hell.”

 

She missed the question entirely, in horrified awe of the view.

 

“It really does look like that. Shit.” Desmond followed her gaze and shook his head.

“But we made it. If Alex does, too, we’re good.”

 

Dana looked at him, smiling. Desmond tried hard to ignore her, then turned anyway.

“What?” He said, trying to not look embarrassed. She grinned and boxed his shoulder.

 

They ended up in some small motel that didn’t want names and allowed for paying with cash (of which they had quite a lot thanks to the whole of Manhattan being essentially free for the taking). No one in the motel looked them over twice, though everyone seemed on edge. There were three locks on the door and bars on the window. 

Not exactly effective methods for keeping an infection out, but people were scared, not educated.

Desmond didn't mind. He'd been paranoid for the better half of his life. Why shouldn't other people? This was getting close to normal, and he wasn't sure if he was just numb to the world after everything he'd been through, or if he was simply at the end of his rope.

Didn't feel like that, not when they had their miraculous escape thanks to Alex' efforts. Alex, who stayed behind to deal with Greene and Blackwatch. Alex, who somehow was a better person than the human Alex Mercer had ever been. It was a conundrum that Desmond didn't want to think about just yet.

Shower, sleep, then finding some sort of safe hiding place with Dana, far away. That was the plan, and he'd stick to it.

He’d told Dana good night and went straight for the shower and then bed. The ratty wallpaper on the ceiling would be the last thing he remembered from that room.

 

 


	12. Chapter 12

Turns out that taking a certain shortcut in life isn’t always the final choice. It also turns out that running away is often just delaying the inevitable.

In his case, it was the whole plethora of bullshit that his father and everyone at the Farm had spouted. Assassins, Templars, eternal war between freedom and control, it was all real. All true.

Had always been.

In hindsight, he really should have known it was too much bullshit to not be reality, life had a way of kicking his ass like that.

  
And Desmond got the full dose of it. The abduction by Abstergo aka the Templars wasn’t even the worst thing, it was the way they catapulted him into what they referred to as genetic memory, his ancestor somewhere in the fucking dark ages halfway across the globe, running around in Syria, murdering people. Altair’s pivotal moments in life and Desmond saw them all, felt them all, acted them all out as if he was Altair himself.

Needless to say it confused him, terrified him, made him see things and think he was a lunatic for the most part, but well, at least he was a lunatic that felt slightly guilty for thinking his dad was a crazy cultist.

It was all real, and he’d turned his back on his family.

 

The Creed, something Altair had established himself, as he later learned whilst he relived the next ancestor’s life, was still there, even today. 

The Assassins, shrunken to a splinter group trying to hide more than fight, were a mere shadow of what Altair and then Ezio had made them to be. 

But the Creed in itself was a powerful thing. The more Desmond learned about it, the more he felt how it affected his ancestor’s lives, made them make choices throughout theirs, grow up with it and fulfil their part in life, the more his own life became imbued in it.

 

Running away from home, his rebellion, his time as a bartender, the time in the Red Zone, all of that blurred from sight as he found his true focus, his calling if you will, in his own genes.

 

And then there were the Precursors, the Inu, the Ones That Came Before and their artifacts. Desmond couldn’t even begin to sort that bucket of crazy. If he thought of them as old aliens, it got a little easier to comprehend. If he remembered all the shit he’d already seen and done, it was a little easier to swallow the pill of acceptance.

  
  


Ezio and Altair walked with him. His steps were just a follow-up to the path they were all walking on. It was humbling to know and even more humbling to learn what they knew, what they’d trained, what they had seen and felt and been through.

 

But there was one thing Desmond never really forgot. Sure, between ancestors and artifacts, there was little time to think of anything else, but sometimes his mind would wander back to icy blue eyes and the most terrifying smile you could ever imagine on a face too handsome for his own good.

It would wander back from veiny biomass that consumed flesh like it was made for it, and swung to the other extreme, to gentle tendrils enveloping his hand.

There was no room for a man-eating virus in the crazy world Desmond inhabited now, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t hold him in his memories fondly.

 

Desmond never forgot Alex. Especially the promise he’d given him and how he’d never be able to keep it. He would never be able to live a normal life, and this time it wasn’t because of Alex (who would never be a regular human regardless), it was because of him.

Desmond, first and foremost, was an Assassin now.

 

There was some downtime after the session in the Animus and Desmond borrowed one of the throwaway cell phones Rebecca had organised. After spending such an absurd amount of time in the Frontier, it was good to remember that it lay in the past.

 

Dana’s number, he still remembered from countless of times of calling her back in the Red Zone. The only thing Desmond hoped was that the number was still working, but Dana always had a penchant for it (she said something about the repeated 69 in it once). 

God, it had been  _ years _ , had it not? He hoped she was okay. He hoped Alex was too.

 

Someone answered.

  
“Dana? This is Desmond. Don’t have much time, just wanted to let you know I’m okay. How are you doing? Did Alex make it?”

 

“Desmond?”

The voice on the other end of the line was bewildered and spoke in a rushed hush.

“Are you okay? Jesus Christ, it’s been two years. Where are you?”

 

“I’m sorry, Dana, it’s been rough. But I’m good, now. How about you? Alex?”

It made him nervous to think about endless possibilities. He wanted to know what had happened. The Red Zone had been cleared, that much he’d gotten from the news. No sign of ZEUS however. The Outbreak had been contained, Manhattan had been isolated. The virus was now known to the world as the ‘Mercer virus’ and Alex remained on the list of most wanted terrorists, internationally. It was...bizarre to think that he knew this man, this supposed monster, personally. That he worried about him.

Desmond’s reverie aside, he wanted to know the truth. All he’d gathered had been online material, and its trustworthiness was questionable at best.

 

“I...I don’t know. Jesus fuck, you don’t know, do you?” Dana sounded aggravated, and if she was in the room with Desmond, she’d be pacing, “They dropped a nuke on Manhattan. It didn’t go off there, it...someone took it out to the ocean with a heli. I’m pretty sure it wasn’t those motherfuckers from the government who changed their mind about wiping out New York.”

 

It felt like ice clawing at him, freezing up his legs and enveloping him. Desmond didn’t want to believe it, but Dana didn’t sound like she was joking.

“A  _ nuke _ .” He stated, his voice sounding oddly hoarse. Maybe it was because of the gigantic lump in his throat, “ _ Someone _ took a nuke out to the ocean with a heli.”

Alex.

Desmond was oddly reminded of the pain he’d felt through Ezio when his father and brothers got murdered in front of his eyes. This was different, but it was the same ice-cold fear around his heart, the loss.

He swallowed, almost didn’t dare to ask.

“You haven’t seen him since then, have you?” The silence on the other side was answer enough.

“Thanks, Dana.” Desmond brought out, “I’ll come see you as soon as I can.”

 

Probably never. His life wasn’t his to determine and he’d lost the last incentive to do so with that message.

Alex was gone. Again. And this time it hurt for real. 

 

“I live in Jersey. Come see me, Des. It’s...it’s good to hear you.” Dana didn’t believe him either, but it was some comfort to know he was still alive after vanishing from Dana’s side. She knew none of his disappearing act had been voluntary, but she was no stranger to carrying around a secret of disproportionate size. She was, after all, the sister of Alex Mercer, the States’ most wanted and notorious homegrown terrorist. 

  
  



	13. Chapter 13

Mayor of Manhattan. A lofty title and an absurd lie, but Alex had nothing else to occupy his time.

 

To clarify, it wasn’t Manhattan anymore. The title of Red Zone became the name of his new home, which still stood, devastated and derelict. It could be worse. It could have been dust, just like the rest of New York, if a nuke had been dropped in it instead of the water. Alex understood his own actions to be of preservation, not an attempt to be heroic. And there remained the question he asked himself now and then if he’d known somewhere deep down that he could regenerate, or if he’d been looking to die.

 

He couldn’t. Die, that is, he knew that now. He wasn’t human, and without any company around to sustain the belief that he should try, Alex surrendered the idea. He’d left New York after the nuke, safe in the knowledge that the virus couldn’t spread without his knowledge. He’d found Dana, living fairly close by, under a different name and with a new life.

 

Alex decided that it was better she did not know of him anymore. Dana was fiercely loyal, and she’d try to convince her brother to live among people, under a disguise. But Alex didn’t want to. His brush with destruction had changed something in him, and he was uncomfortably aware of how inferior and fragile human life was. He didn’t feel at ease among them, and they’d never be at ease with him.

 

He spent a month searching for signs of Desmond, but the world turned out emptier than before. He was gone, without a trace, without anything at all.

 

Alex couldn’t blame him. Desmond must have run and Dana probably fought him about it. But Desmond’s disappearance was an unintentional breach of their deal, and it broke something in Alex to know it would never be upheld.

 

He returned to New York. Without a goal or company, he wanted to at least be in a place he thoroughly remembered.

 

It was a shitshow. All the bridges to the island had been demolished, humanity giving up on the Red Zone, wanting to put the dark chapter of a ‘biological terrorist attack’ behind them. Alex did too, and he made Manhattan his home.

 

With time, Central Park began to break its boundaries. Nature didn’t care for the horrific events that had occured and began to retake the concrete jungle. Alex helped it along, removing infected, dead biomass, clearing debris out of the streets, recycling metal to fix buildings that were still standing. This was his home now. He lived here, a king alone on an island that humanity would try to forget.

 

He didn’t mind. The hives had left behind an enormous mass of infected matter that he could absorb. It didn’t taste or feel good, but it sustained him. Animals roamed the streets. Pets that had been left behind, strays, vermin, birds, even police horses. They were the only residents of Manhattan now, and Alex presided over them in brooding silence.

 

Sometimes, he’d watch the distant shores of Brooklyn and Staten Island. They possessed the telltale glimmer and hover of detection drones, and he swore he could see troopers there now and then, but nothing ever made a move across the water. Humanity had drawn the line and could only hope Alex would remain on the other side of it.

 

The water was never truly a barrier, though he did hate how it made him feel.

 

No, Alex was, all in all, done with the world. It seemed content to ignore his little island, so he returned the favor. For now. 

 

-x-

 

Reality returned to Desmond like a weight pressing down on his entire body. Even after hours and hours spent in the Animus, the old models as well as the newer ones, that feeling didn’t ever entirely go away. Sure, it was less now that he was on the third ancestor and entirely used to the change of scenery but it was still there every time he woke up. He rubbed his face, trying to open his eyes only to be greeted by Shaun of all people.

 

“Welcome back, Desmond! You’ll be happy to hear there’s actually good news for once.”

 

Shaun talking seemed like really bad news right now, but Desmond didn’t say so. Instead, he sat up.

“Yeah?”

 

Who knew, maybe there were good news after all? Like a functioning shower and an actual bed for Desmond to sleep in. He didn’t say that, he knew all of them were tired from working day and night on solving the issue at hand, but it was on the tip of his tongue.

It was crazy how trying to save the world from the shadows changed you. He’d seen it in his ancestors, specifically in Ezio, but having it happen to yourself and noticing it was quite the difference.

 

“I’ve managed to locate a power source.” Shaun said, “And it’s relatively close by. Up for a trip to Manhattan? Or, well, what’s left of it.”

 

Rebecca chimed in with something Desmond didn’t even hear anymore. Manhattan… The last time he’d been there it hadn’t exactly been a place that anyone would like to take a trip to. Now… Well, he’d seen the videos. It was a ghost town by all means, the Infected gone.

 

But it wasn’t like Desmond was traumatised from it, no, it was something else. Manhattan was also undeniably connected to Alex and even if it had been two years since the nuke, Desmond still had never faced the thought, the consequence of what Dana meant when she’d informed him about it.

 

Alex couldn’t be… But he was, and the knowledge hurt him and had him sink into his head.

Not the right time to think about it, to grieve for a person that, well, he’d really, really started to like, but it needed an outlet somewhere.

Maybe Manhattan was the right place. Maybe he needed to come to an end with things, to maybe say goodbye to Alex Mercer.

 

“Desmond, hello?” Shaun’s voice was laced with more irritation than usual. Perhaps it was because of Desmond’s lack of response, or maybe it was William’s presence. Either way, all three assembled assassins were impatient for Desmond’s response and concerned by his spacing out.

 

“Bleed effect? Hearing voices?” Rebecca asked, again, deeply concerned by the prolonged effects of the animus on Desmond. His father watched him silently, scrutinizing.

 

“What’s in Manhattan, son?” he asked after the quiet stretched on for too long.

 

Desmond heard them all, but he didn’t feel like answering. Only when Rebecca’s concern rang through to him, he sighed and shook his head, pushing himself up and off of the seat.

 

“Nothing. Isn’t it the Red Zone still?”

 

Rebecca and Shaun seemed to take the bait, but Desmond felt his dad’s scrutinizing gaze steadily on him. His presence annoyed him, the man always seemed to want, to expect, more and more and more. Yes, Desmond was an assassin, but he was also a person, a son!

 

He did not owe the man an explanation, not for something that was entirely his and would be forever, the memories he’d made away from the Farm, away from the Assassins. It was easy to lose himself in all these ancestors and the bigger cause and while Desmond stood for it, he had also learned to be a person on his own. Not just Altair’s descendant, or Ezio’s grand-grand-grand-and-so-on-child, but actually Desmond. Alex had always played a part in that and Alex was tightly connected to Manhattan.

 

“But it’s not like we have a choice, right? Let’s go to Manhattan then.”

 

“Right. That’s that then.” William awkwardly ended the silent interrogation and moved away to help pack things up, but conviction looked different. It didn’t matter what Desmond hid away, as long as he remembered what was ahead of them. Him. The weight of his ancestry was a heavy burden on all of their shoulders.

 

Rebecca lingered a moment longer, lowering her voice.

 

“Don’t worry about the Red Zone. We’ve got a contact in Jersey, and she gave the all clear. No zombies.”

 

Desmond gave her a little smile, but he didn’t really feel like smiling. Or joking.

He was quiet on the road to Manhattan and happy about the rattling that came from their van. It was hard to make conversation here anyway and perhaps if he just sat still and looked focused, they thought he was mentally preparing for the mission. Which he had been for about ten minutes and now, well, now his thoughts were with Alex.

 

With what felt like almost three lifetimes between having met Alex, Desmond knew he’d had it pretty bad for the guy. He’d learned what the difference between romance and desire and true love was, something both Altair and Ezio had taken quite a while to understand.

He remembered Ezio realising what it meant on the merlons of Masyaf at the formidable age of 56.

 

What he’d felt for Alex was not the same thing he’d had with Lucy, he understood that now, it was something else, a connection more intense than just plain romance.

 

Which is why the loss hurt even more and which was why Desmond was refraining from accepting it. He would walk into Manhattan and not accept it. Alex needed to be out there somewhere.

Rebecca equipped him with stuff, William told him about some office penthouse in lower Manhattan that he’d have to infiltrate from above.

 

“What do you mean, above?” He asked his father and received a parachute for an answer. Fantastic.

 


	14. Chapter 14

The target building was below him now as Desmond moved towards the edge of the crane, crouched, balancing. The height did not bother him, even if ground level was way further than anything he’d ever climbed in his ancestors’ lives. Once you got above a certain height, it didn’t really matter anymore and Desmond was long above that limit.

 

“Jump when you’re ready, but wait for my signal to open the chute. Timing’s really important here.”

 

Desmond didn’t listen. He’d been scanning the surroundings with Eagle Vision, just because he could and maybe because it was just cool to be able to do that and maybe because…

 

He understood now that even before the Animus, he’d had the second sight, even though it had not been a skill he could willingly use. It had prevented him from danger in the past, had warned him of shady figures and given him some clues which were the right people to follow. And it had showed him people he’d been desperately looking for, especially that one time at Penn Station.

  
Desmond remembered the gold hue in the crowd, the shine that immediately drew his attention and was gone when he found his focus.

 

And exactly that golden shine had his heart beat in his throat when he stopped at the edge, both feet firmly on the steel.

It had been there, just a moment, on the corner of his eyesight. Desmond unfastened the straps of the parachute.

It might have been a malfunction of his Eagle Vision, strained eyes after days with little sleep, a light somewhere in the distance, but Desmond had faith.

 

And wasn’t faith what this whole thing was about?

 

He spread his arms, heard Rebecca and then his father yell in the earpiece but ignored them as he shifted his weight, jumped up and let himself fall forward until gravity took over and pulled him down inevitably.

  
  


The presence of life in the Red Zone wasn’t all that unusual. Alex had noticed them before; kids, mostly, daring themselves to cross the water and walk in the forbidden, derelict world. It was stupid to think the Outbreak had only happened two, maybe three years ago. It felt like a lifetime.

 

A lifetime long enough for stupid young people to come here on dares, to run around, scream, get drunk and feel like heroes. Sometimes, Alex did them the favor of showing up and scaring the piss out of them. Sometimes, he let them be. He could always tell when they were on the island. The scent of human carried, or maybe that was due to his senses being so hyperfocused on anything living, any possible source of biomass.

 

He smelled humans, but it was the secondary layer to the scent that robbed Alex of all delusions of calm tonight; he smelled a scent he’d never forgotten, though it had been gone a long, long time.

 

It couldn’t be him, but maybe someone else had turned up, who, inexplicably, smelled like Desmond Miles.

 

Alex had nothing to lose. He followed the scent, surprised when it went higher and higher in the air. He followed it by running up the closest building. Where they in a glider? A helicopter with open doors? But the Red Zone was an absolute no-fly zone, how would that even happen? 

 

The questions could probably be answered, but Alex had no time to think about it. Something, a tiny, bright point against the black sky, was plummeting towards him. Arms outstretched, a body. A human. Hurtling towards death.

 

Huh. So was he getting suicide tourists now, too? Alex would find out. If someone wanted to die, they may as well let him take them and their memories. A corpse wouldn’t give Alex any of that, and he was seriously bored of watching CSI reruns.

 

He pushed away from the building when the body was almost level with him. It was easy to jump, catch the falling form and land on the opposing building.

 

The face he saw, however, destroyed his mild curiosity, blowing it up into bewilderment and a mad sense of joy.

 

“Desmond?!”

 

When the collision came, for a second, Desmond wondered if this was death and he’d actually ended up as a street pizza.

The impact knocked the earpiece off of him, but that wasn’t really something Desmond could think about anyway, not when the unthinkable happened and he found himself in the secure grip of one very surprised Alex Mercer.

 

Desmond’s senses were going haywire from jumping like this, adrenaline pulsing through him wildly, but honestly, he’d never felt more alive, more joy, more relief, more anything in his life.

 

His arms came up around Alex’ neck before he could stop himself, his face trying to mirror all his emotions at once. He couldn’t really hug him like this, while they were still sliding along the building’s wall, but Desmond needed to get his hands on him, see that he was real.

 

“Alex!” He brought out, voice oddly hoarse, but he still managed a bright smile, “You’re alive.”

 

“You’re a fucking lunatic, did you just jump off of a building?!” Alex snarled, keeping his arms securely around Desmond as they rapidly descended to the ground. Whatever the reason for Desmond’s return, he was glad to see him. Even if he wasn’t exactly expressing it at this moment.

 

The last hundred feet, Alex simply jumped down. His impact left the ground with another crater, but what was one more pothole in Manhattan at this point? 

 

Much more important was the happy burden in his arms.

 

“...What are you doing here?” he couldn’t help the vague warmth in his voice, or the way he clutched Desmond to himself.

 

“I wanna say looking for you, I really do.” Desmond answered, the happy grin not leaving his face nor did the sparkle of joy in his eyes, “It’s been so long, shit, Alex, I’m sorry… You were here the entire time? Dana said you took a nuke!”

Alex held him to himself even when they’d already landed and Desmond wasn’t really protesting. Even when Alex put him on his own legs, Desmond immediately reached out to touch his arm.

He was here, alive. However that worked, he was fine with it, as long as Alex was right there.

 

“It’s called a Leap of Faith by the way. I had faith in you.” He managed another grin, then, finally, gave in to temptation and pulled Alex tightly against himself.

“I thought you were dead. I had hope, but...”

Desmond trailed off, trying to force down the feeling of grief.

 

Alex was here.


	15. Chapter 15

It was all a bit much for Alex to process, so he let himself indulge in the feeling of Desmond pressed against him. He even raised his arms to return the very human gesture, sucking in a deep breath of Desmond’s scent. It was still the same, still so sharply different than any other human Alex had ever smelled, and it was a comfort. His words were sweet, but Alex couldn’t process their meaning either. Desmond was supposed to be gone from his life, and here he was, leaping back into it. Like a madman, from a skyscraper.

 

“I thought you ran.” he muttered, eyes closed, trying not to think of how much he’d like to swallow Desmond up so he could never, ever, leave him again, “I thought you were gone forever.”

 

“Thought so, too.” Desmond murmured back, holding Alex against him, tightly, allowing him to lean on him and do that weird thing where he breathed in his scent or whatever his physiology dictated him to do, “I thought I’d never see you again. Remember the cultists? Turns out it’s true and the bad guys got me like a day or two after we got out of the Red Zone. Dana surely told you, didn’t she?”

 

Desmond was babbling and he knew it, but having Alex so close, even if they were standing right in the middle of a crater in the street, it made him feel hot and cold at the same time, triggered him and drew him in at the same time.

 

Alex was warm against him, warmer than any human and that too, Desmond remembered fondly. He smoothed his hands over a leather-clad back (biomass, of course, he remembered) and just held Alex for a moment, feeling his slimmer body against him and his warm breath against his neck. Not that he needed to breathe, he’d told him once, but old habits died hard, apparently.

 

“I haven’t talked to Dana. Better that way,” Alex drew back from his fix, trying his best to keep himself under control. He hadn’t been this close to something living in a while, especially not a human being. But this was Desmond, so the urge to consume was kept on a tight leash. Nothing in this world had a right to harm Desmond.

 

“So...you got taken? Abducted? And you managed to escape and came  _ here _ ? Why the fuck would you ever come back here? Jesus fucking Christ, Desmond. Did you take a boat?” Alex took to inspecting Desmond instead, flipping the switch from happy-baffled to angry-baffled in an instant. Why wasn’t Desmond somewhere nice, living out his life?

 

Desmond raised his hands, trying to calm Alex who was so much still his old self that it ached sweetly just to see him switch through different strong emotions quickly.

 

“Hey, I… I’m here on a mission. I’m supposed to be up there.” He pointed upwards, helpfully. Alex looked at him with nothing but confusion.

“It’s a long story. Basically, I got abducted by the bad guys, the good guys saved me and I’m part of them now. It wasn’t a cult, I saw proof that it’s true.”

 

That didn’t seem to satisfy Alex. “Look, I’m here to get something, an artifact. I saw you earlier, ‘s why I jumped without the chute. Kinda really wanted to see you for real.”

 

Behind him, Rebecca’s little drone showed up, beeping two times.

 

It was reflex, nothing but pure reflex for Alex to shift his arm and smash the drone in seconds. Weeks of being hunted with detection drones had made him very, very allergic to that kind of beeping, but the look on Desmond’s face had him figure out that it probably wasn’t a hostile robot after all.

 

“You’re gonna tell me everything you just summarized, in actual sentences, Des.” Alex considered scooping him up, but then offered him his arm instead. Maybe it would be better if he gave Desmond the illusion of a choice here.

 

Desmond couldn’t prevent Alex destroying the drone, but his reflexes were fast enough to rival that of the Blacklight virus. When Alex smashed the drone, Desmond was already crouching on the floor.

 

“... Rebecca’s gonna be mad. That was my connection to them, I lost the earpiece.” And somehow, Desmond found himself caring very little about it. Well, he did care, but what was a day or two in the grand scheme of things? They weren’t very far anyway and here in the Red Zone, chances were very low the power source would just run away.

 

He got up and looked at Alex and his arm. It had him grin and shake his head. “I wanna do it how we used to. Turn around.”

Alex did and Desmond climbed onto his back, much more in control of his own body now that he had proper training and the experience of three of his ancestors. He wasn’t hanging on Alex like a wet noodle when they took off and he didn’t complain nor did he feel sick. Much the opposite.

 

“I’m used to jumping off of things by now but this is fucking amazing.” He called when Alex was racing up another building, wind rushing past his ears, having long since pulled back his hood.

 

Alex had to wonder about this change in Desmond, but he could hardly complain when it lead to him enjoying every leap that Alex took. Maybe he was showing off a little too, gliding extra far and extra fast with his light burden. The bafflement and anger dropped away, replaced by the simple joy at being reunited with someone who would never be afraid of him, and that was a breath of fresh air and a promise of company.

 

Said company was going to experience the very quality of Alex’ lifestyle, because he brought Desmond straight to what he considered his home. The very top of a sturdy building overlooking what used to be Central Park. Alex had ‘nests’ all over the Red Zone, places where he could entertain himself, but this one was his favorite. Inaccessible from the ground, metal sheets and pieces of tanks barricaded the inside of the building. But Alex hadn’t just fortified. Walls were ripped out, debris swept away, and surviving furniture from all over the city decorated the huge, open ‘apartment’ Alex had created. It was a little eclectic, with nothing matching, with odd rugs and differently sized windows that exposed one entire side of the building, but it was home nonetheless. 

 

A generator provided Alex with electricity, courtesy of the many leftovers after all human life had departed Manhattan. He even had several laptops and a functional internet connection, because entertainment was hard to come by these days. 

 

Alex deposited Desmond in the middle of his ‘living room’ and pulled the roof shut above them.

 

“Alright. Sit down. You got a lot to tell me.”

 

Desmond was still a little windswept by the wild ride through Manhattan he had thoroughly enjoyed for a change. No infected on his ass, no way to contact the Assassins including his dad. It was like Alex, nice, caring Alex had welcomed him home and taken off his mantle of responsibility at the front door before inviting him into his home.

 

And home was where he’d really brought him. There was surprise in him as he looked around and found the place looking pretty lively.

 

“To be honest this looks more like home than your apartment in the Renalia ever did.” He commented, grinning as he took the invitation and sat down on the nearest couch. Not an easy choice because there were at least five couches, all in various states of being flattened by their super-dense new owner.

 

“I like it. Nice. Your bachelor pad volume two.”

Desmond saw the look on Alex face and chuckled, “Alright, alright.”

 

And then he told Alex. Everything, really. Abstergo, being forced to use the Animus. Altair. The escape and Lucy, the other Assassins. Fleeing from Abstergo and diving into Ezio’s memories.

Alex was a good listener, he clung to his lips and let Desmond finish his story.

The coma, Clay, his dad, Connor. And then of course the whole thing with the Precursors. The Apple, the cave, the solar flare.

 

“I know it’s a lot and I’m not asking you to believe me. Well, I kinda am, but it’s okay if you don’t. But that’s why I’m here. And.. maybe… ‘s gonna sound cheesy but…” Desmond raised a hand to rub the back of his head, “I kinda wanted to say goodbye to you. Thought you were dead and all.”

 

He raised his gaze only to look at Alex and found ice blue eyes on him. It had the same effect on him as it had always had, the terror mixed with excitement, just the right concoction to get him going, really.

Desmond put on a light smile and reached out to squeeze Alex’ arm.

 

“But you’re not and I’m… I couldn’t be happier, really.”

 

It was a lot of information to swallow and a large stretch in rationality to accept, but Alex had experienced enough crazy shit in his own life to know that reason wasn’t always applicable to reality. And really, Desmond had no reason at all to lie to him. He was here for Alex, in a manner of speaking, and now he got a chance to explain himself instead of mourning for a terrorist. At least, that’s what his wikipedia page said.

 

“I can’t die. Not through conventional methods, anyway. I think someone would have to develop another antivirus for that, but everyone who knew about Redlight and Blacklight is gone.”

 

Alex was sitting next to him on the couch, both of them awkward at first but comfortable by now. Desmond was sitting on one of his legs, Alex looked like he was melting into the couch pillows.

 

Outside, the sun was setting slowly, painting the whole apartment into orange light. Except that it wasn’t the same creepy hue the Red Zone had been, but actually the warm, golden shine of a nice sunset.

 

Desmond reached out to squeeze Alex’ thigh, smiling at him. “I’d appreciate it if no one ever comes up with something like that for you. I mean, you got it under control. The outbreak, I mean, and you’re not the kinda guy to go around infecting people. They just don’t know that, but what do they know anyway?”

He got up and stretched, then nodded over at the row of fridges Alex had put up. “You got any drinks to mix? I’m feeling nostalgic.”

 

“Knock yourself out. I think I raided every bar left standing. It’s not like anyone else is gonna drink it.” Alex had seen the sunset over the eerie corpse of Manhattan time and time again, but it was refreshing to watch it over the green tree-tops of the former park in front of his window. If you sat here long enough, you might even see some former police horses roaming around in little herds. It was a bizarre kind of utopia, just for Alex and the animals. He felt more at home among their freshly feral ways than the complicated world of humans.

 

Desmond was the best of that world, and Alex couldn’t uphold any resentment for his disappearance. It wasn’t Desmond’s fault, anyway.

 

“Shirley Templar, if you can manage.”

 

That earned Alex a chuckle and an eager Desmond roaming through the fridges he found to collect what he needed, Ginger Ale, some cheap lemonade, an unopened bottle of Grenadine and also some citric acid that’d have to do as lemon juice substitute.

 

With his haul, he made it over to the bar Alex had put up.

“Good setup. Hey, you even got running water here, nice.” Desmond commented while he looked for some glass that could work. This was going to be makeshift, which fit in nicely with the entire design of things here. He shrugged out of his jacket and went to work.

 

Alex came over soon enough and slid onto one of the bar stools. It made Desmond smile again. “Damn, this is pretty nostalgic. Look at this.”

From one of the drawers that Alex probably hadn’t looked at when he’d brought the bar here, Desmond produced a cocktail umbrella he put into the drink before he placed it in front of Alex.

“Enjoy your drink, Doctor Mercer.”

 

“I will, blowjob lips,” Alex preferred having the full knowledge of their past together. It helped him understand moments such as this as intimate. He sipped at the drink. It didn’t quite match with the memory of their first meeting, but it was close enough to help Alex remember.

 

“It’s still too sweet.” Alex didn’t look away from Desmond at any moment. He was still caught up in the odd desire to consume him and yet never touch him. He wanted Desmond with him, inside of him, to belong to Alex and stay with him. 

 

Alex’ intense gaze on him gave Desmond goosebumps. He’d lost nothing of the way he affected him, still the same reactions after all this time.

 

The nickname and the comment had him laugh though, a small, happy laugh before Desmond turned to get himself something to drink as well. Some can of beer would do. He nodded at the light outside. “You got a balcony? Think we can do better than hanging out at a bar.”

Alex indicated him to follow and Desmond did. They went up some stairs and Alex pushed open a hatch. To the roof, obviously, but the roof Alex had decorated as well. There were more couches, a greenhouse, some lanterns, even an entirely unused barbecue grill.

Desmond followed Alex through the couches to a very specific one closest to the edge of the building.

When Alex sat down, he followed the example, their shoulders brushing when he leaned back, eyes on the horizon.

  
“This is amazing. Looks fucking great.”

 

It wasn’t even a conscious choice, but with his beer in one hand, Desmond easily put the other arm around Alex’ shoulder, pulling him against him just the tiniest little bit.

 

Alex could take on the weight of a freight train if he chose to, so Desmond’s little pulling move definitely didn’t go unnoticed. Whatever the true reason for Desmond’s adventurous trip to Manhattan didn’t seem to matter too much anymore. He was looking for something, and there were people attached to him now, a group that seemed to be into the same kind of secretive bullshit that Blackwatch ran.

 

Maybe without the deadly bioweapon arsenal, but bullshit nonetheless. But if Desmond didn’t bring it up by himself, Alex wouldn’t either. He’d concentrate on how Desmond looked at him instead of asking questions. It didn’t matter to him if the world was in danger yet again, not when Desmond couldn’t stop touching and looking at him as if he couldn’t believe he was real. And yet, the urgency with which he told Alex about the state of things before didn’t leave his mind. He didn’t care for the rest of the world, but he cared for Desmond.

 

“...you’re not here to stay, are you?”


	16. Chapter 16

Desmond had not expected the question at all. Not when he had been successful trying to romance the guy to the best of his ability. Alex was even leaning against him now, albeit a bit reluctantly.

 

The question answered as to why he was reluctant. Alex wasn’t thinking about the moment, he was thinking about other things. Tomorrow, next week, next month.

It pulled Desmond back into the reality he’d been trying to blend out, at least for now. He couldn’t contact the other Assassins anyway, they probably thought ZEUS had eaten him which meant at least one, two or three days off. Desmond needed this and it was selfish and probably the right thing to rile up his dad endlessly, but he’d wanted to see Alex badly.

 

“Kinda wish I would be. But like I said, I’m here to get something.”

Desmond sat up again and gave up on trying to cuddle with Alex, instead rested his arm on the couch’s backrest.

 

“I gotta save the world, Alex, and nobody else can do it. You know the drill.” Desmond took a sip from his beer and let his eyes wander over Central Park, his expression growing more solemn again.

 

Desmond was so casual about it, but Alex was possibly one of the only people in the world who understood that kind of reasoning out of personal experience. Desmond had made his decision, and that’s why he was so callous about it. He probably saw this as a reprieve, a last hurrah before he had to go do the inevitable, whatever that was.

 

It had some kind of finality to it, something Alex didn’t like. Desmond had re-appeared in his life hours ago. He wanted more of him than just a drink on a rooftop. Alex made a very easy decision as he pulled Desmond against himself. With his attempts to touch and cuddle, he didn’t think the man would mind. He let tendrils slide over Desmond as he turned him to face Alex on his lap. 

 

“You gonna be a big-time hero, Des? I hear that comes with perks.”

 

“Nah, just gotta save Earth from a solar flare, the usual.” Desmond joked, because really, there wasn’t much else to do with it than make fun of it.

Being pulled into Alex’ lap was new though and definitely something he hadn’t really calculated with. Alex’ hands were on his sides, but there was something sliding over his thighs so Desmond just had to look.

He found eager black tendrils worming their way over the fabric of his jeans.

 

“This part of the perks? Kinky. I like it.” Desmond tried to play it cool, but his heartbeat had picked up and the way in which Alex held him on him with purpose, mixed with that stare from icy eyes… It did something for him. Or maybe it was just because this was Alex. Didn’t really matter, the situation quickly took his mind off of tomorrow and had him focus on the here and now.

 

Ironic, really, how the tables had turned. How Desmond had once been Alex’ tool to forget and now… Well, he was returning the favour, it seemed.

 

Alex had many thoughts, but most of the cycled around the issue currently at hand. He hadn’t tried to fuck a human. He’d thought about it, but found most if not all people to be more suitable for consumption. Some part of him determined that no one was good enough, no one was Desmond enough.

 

Fuck it, that was probably a pathetic notion, but he’d been very attached to the last companion in bed he’d had before he left his human life behind. Who the hell was gonna judge Alex Mercer for being sentimental?

 

“It is. And besides, you and I thought about this before. I know. I’m pretty perceptive.”  Alex leaned forward, this time brushing his nose and lips over Desmond’s exposed neck, nipping at the skin there, “and right now, you’re not really thinking about saving the world.”

 

“Now you can smell my thoughts, huh?” Desmond replied, trying to stay calm despite the fire that Alex’ lips left in their wake on his skin.

He ran his hands over Alex’ arms up to his shoulders, then let one of them wander into his hood to cup the back of his neck and hold him where he was, fingers softly massaging the biomass-turned-skin.

 

“Who said thinking about saving the world didn’t turn me on?”

 

He was joking, of course, because no thought of epic actions on his behalf could make him feel like this. Alex was on him with a certain kind of hunger and intention and Desmond was grateful for sitting already, because this was exactly the kinda stuff that made him go weak in the knees.

  
  


“I was talking about your general state of arousal, but hey, fuck it, let’s say you’ve got a boner for saving the world,” Alex grinned up at him, hood dissolving beyond Desmond’s fingers. The good thing about being your own clothing was the lack of having to remove them if you did decide to get frisky with the only human you could possibly want to fuck. Or be fucked by. Alex hadn’t given it any thought yet.

 

“And if you do have this theoretical boner, then I should probably handle it, hm? Before you get into your big time heroics.”

 

“Fuck.” Desmond couldn’t help the embarrassed little grin on his face. Alex looked absolutely delectable with his hood off and his soft curls flat and messy from the hood that had rested on them just a moment ago. He reached out to cup Alex’ head, run his fingers through them.

 

“You really just have to look at me like that and, yep, it’s not theoretical anymore. Jesus, Alex.”

It was kind of amazing what Alex did to him by just existing and looking like he did, with that knowing little smirk and all the power in the world in his palms.

Desmond cupped his cheek, ran his finger over the guy’s lips. “Back then I didn’t tell you, but I thought you were the hottest guy in NY. Still are.”   
He withdrew his hand, only to pull his shirt over his head, revealing a body trained by age-old exercise.

“I’m competing for second place, by the way. You think I got a chance?”

 

“Maybe in Manhattan.” Alex looked Desmond over. He was much more trained than when he’d seen him last. Despite the vague gauntness of his face that suggested he didn’t sleep much, he no longer had an adequately fit body. Now he had scars and defined muscles. Not bulky like a builder, but lean and strong, like someone who knew how to run and fight for his life. 

 

What had he gone through in the years that parted them? Alex intended to find out, later. Right now, he wanted, no he needed this; to be closer to Desmond than he had been to anyone since his resurrection.

 

“I wanna do things to you...will you let me? Do you still trust me?” or was that a dumb question, considering Desmond had jumped off of a damn building on a mere hint of Alex’ existence? He asked it nonetheless. It was the last chance for Desmond to change his mind.

 

Another one of those unexpected questions, but this one had Desmond smile. It was downright adorable how Alex asked him for permission, for his trust. Him being able to just take what he wanted and still not doing it in favour of having Desmond consent made it all the sweeter.

 

Desmond braced his hands on the backrest of the couch behind Alex’ shoulders, just so he could lean down and brush the tip of his nose along Alex’ cheek.

 

“I’d let you do anything to me. Don’t think there’s someone out there I trust more than you.”

He looked at Alex, bumped his nose against his before capturing his lips in a loving little kiss.

 

It was crazy to think that they were here, in the former Red Zone, looking out over Central Park while Desmond was supposed to be somewhere else entirely saving the world and Alex, well, was supposed to be dead in the first place.

There was so much stuff he could have been thinking about, anything really, if it wasn’t for Alex occupying his every thought right now.

 

That was the final call, the last hurdle, and it was overcome not with a bang or a whisper, but a kiss. Desmond was fully committed to making this romantic, apparently, and a full 180 to the arrangement he and a more human Alex Mercer had. But it suited Alex well, because things weren’t like that anymore. Desmond had become important enough to postpone world-saving activities in favor of letting them catch up and do what they should have done a long time ago.

 

Alex kissed him back, hesitant at first. It was difficult to regulate himself to mere human movement. If he pushed a little too hard, he could snap Desmond’s neck where his hands wandered, if he bit a little too enthusiastically, he could tear off Desmond’s jaw. It was like playing with waverthin glass, and Alex was succeeding so far. His various tendrils busied themselves with the easy removal of Desmond’s clothing, which, unlike his own, was made of dead fiber. Pesky. Tendrils slithered over zippers, tugged open a belt, pulled off shoes. 

 

Alex drew back from Desmond’s lips when he was completely naked, throning on Alex like a delicate prize. He didn’t even want to move him off of his lap, and strange, new ideas formed in his head.

 

“...put your legs over my shoulders.”

Being undressed by tendrils while Alex’ hands were steadily holding onto his arms, rubbing them gently was certainly an odd, new sensation. Sure, some years ago Desmond had been quite sure his sexlife had never quite found a peak and he’d been pretty open for more, but ever since Abstergo, all of that had taken a backseat.

Desmond wasn’t Desmond first anymore, he was Subject 17 and then Altair’s, Ezio’s, Connor’s descendant and an Assassin first and foremost.

 

This was not about any of that. This was Alex wanting Desmond for who he was on his own and it played a great part in getting him to forget about all the other stuff, at least for the moment.

 

ANd then Alex gave him this odd order, typical Alex fashion without an explanation or even an emotional cue as to what this was all about.

  
“What?” Desmond was slightly baffled, but Alex didn’t seem to be wanting to discuss it, so Desmond did what was asked of him, bless genetic predisposition and his training for being flexible like this. Slightly odd to put your junk in someone’s face just about half a minute later than kissing the same person for the first time in a long time, but okay.

 

Alex was impatient and demanding by nature. The human, the first one he consumed, shaped everything about him. He knew that now. The only improvements he made to Alex Mercer was losing all of his fear and compensating with a rational sort of empathy for humanity. But that had nothing to do with the human desires that remained, just as Desmond’s new position had nothing to do with any viral needs within Alex.

 

This was, simply put, him wanting to try things out and using Desmond as a more than willing test subject. Simultaneously, he wouldn’t try this out on anyone else. Desmond was currently awkwardly balanced with his hands clinging to Alex’ head, his legs hanging over the back of the couch, Alex holding him up by the waist.

 

“Trust me,” he beseeched before he opened his mouth around Desmond’s dick, shoving him forward until the tip of it hit the back of Alex’ throat and Desmond sat snugly on his shoulders, Alex’ hands pressed securely against his backside.

 

There was no way Desmond could not follow that last request. When Alex swallowed his dick whole like that, he cursed, thighs flexing as he kept himself from bucking into the hot, wet heat of the inside of Alex’ mouth. Or whatever he was shifting it to, because he had no sort of gag reflex whatsoever.   
Desmond’s head emptied quickly of any residual coherent thought.

He clung to Alex’ head, trying to not hold on too hard and keeping himself in position with his legs. That resolution went out of his mind quickly when Alex did something with his mouth, something absolutely fantastic that Desmond didn’t want to think about too hard.

It had him groan and gave him a shudder of pleasure down his back, the kind that gave you goosebumps all over.

 

“F-fuck, I don’t even wa-wanna know what you’re up to, but it’s freaking amazing. Don’t.. Don’t stop, Alex.”

  
  


Alex could probably still talk, or make himself another mouth, but he decided that that would probably be offputting more than anything else. Desmond was a considerable size, but Alex had the absolute freedom over his own shape. He had no gag reflex, no limit, didn’t even need to breathe. He began to suck, very, very gently, summoning the experience of the considerable collective of the people he’d consumed that were familiar with sucking dick. He quickly found a number of techniques, and each time he tried one, Desmond seemed to buck a little more, sweat a little harder, groan his name a little louder. Alex liked this. It was power over someone, sure, but he wasn’t causing pain or fear or death. He was making Desmond surrender to his ministrations with nothing more than a little tongue and throat action. This was fucking easy. Why hadn’t human Alex used these techniques?

 

Where Desmond had tried to take care to not hurt Alex at first by not clinging to his head too harshly or by staying still, he had long since given up on it now.

His hands clawed into Alex’ hair as he bucked his hips at every little twist and turn Alex produced with that amazing wet heat inside of him.

 

“H-holy fuck, Alex, if you keep this up, this isn’t… gonna last very long.”

Alex rolled his eyes up at him and did something that had Desmond moan at him. It took until now for Desmond to understand that he was being played with, tested on. Alex had meant it when he’d said he wanted to do so many things to him.

He’d never done this before and wanted to see what worked. He was a test subject (again), but this time in the most pleasant way he could imagine. And somehow, that rubbed him just the right way.

 

Alex did not let up, he did not pull back, nor did he give him an answer, he just continued with whatever the hell he was doing that didn’t matter because it was amazing. Desmond tried to hold on, but there was no holding on when Alex was merciless with him like this.

 

With a low groan and a whisper of Alex’ name, Desmond spilled himself somewhere inside of Alex.

 

Alex approximated his internal biomass to feel like a throat. Nothing was more repulsive than suddenly questioning what body part you’d come in. He swallowed down what Desmond spilled. Humans and their byproducts didn’t have one, uniform taste to Alex. Each human was unique in taste, in consistency, in what memories raced through their heads in the throes of death. Each human was an experience, and one that Alex had grown used to enjoying, but never in his short life had he wanted to devour a human so much that he was greedy for every drop of what was given to him.

 

With Desmond lax in his grip, Alex pulled him back to his lap to allow him to recover. He was breathing so hard, it must have been a good, surprising climax. 

 

Alex watched him, making sure Desmond’s eyes, a warm mixture of hazel and gold, clung to him when he licked his lips.

 

“You taste fucking  _ great _ ,” he growled, his voice hitting somewhere between seduction and predator.

 

That should creep him out, definitely, Desmond decided, it should. But it didn’t, instead Alex’ eyes on him, his goddamn voice and the way he licked his lips just made him horny all over again.

 

“If you look at me like that you’re giving me serious hope that this was just the beginning. Also, yep, I’m definitely into being your personal test subject. I always knew being kidnapped and used affected you later on still, but I really didn’t think it’d turn into some kink.”

Desmond grinned and reached out to grab the back of Alex’ neck. Leaning in, he brought their foreheads together.

“That was freaking amazing and if that’s the kinda stuff you wanna try out then I’m all yours.”

 

He kissed him again, but only to trail further down with his lips to where Alex’ chest was bare due to opened buttons. Ezio would have a thing or two to say to that, of course, but Ezio wasn’t here. This was him, having his very own sex adventure.

  
  


Alex was willing to allow Desmond a little exploration in return, but he was mostly in this for the very reason Desmond had just jokingly described as his kink. He was most certainly Alex’ test subject in terms of affection.

 

But something he said had Alex still, his fingers gentle and still on Desmond’s lower back.

 

“You are.  _ Mine _ , you know.” His grip tightened and his gaze sharpened. If Desmond thought for a second that any of this wasn’t deeply connected to possession and claim, he was terribly wrong.

 

Desmond too sat entirely still as he understood what Alex was telling him.

 

This wasn’t meant to be some lighthearted fooling around with each other and Alex testing out the boundaries of human bodies in a more sensual way, this was Alex  _ claiming _ him.

 

If it was just part of his personality or his biology, Desmond didn’t know, both was entirely possible.

It didn’t really matter though which one of the two it was because neither left Desmond a choice in all of this.

Luckily he didn’t need one.

 

His surprised expression turned softer as scarred lips stretched into a smile. Desmond nudged the layers of biomass that looked like Alex Mercer’s clothing.

“Need this off. Gotta lay claim to you right back, doctor.”

 

He shifted in Alex’ lap and got up on his knees. In that position and with some pressure on Alex’ shoulders to indicate him what he intended to do, he managed to make him lay back on the couch tentatively.

“You gonna get naked for me? I know you kinda are already, but hey. Indulge me. Please?”

 

Desmond had smoothly ignored the firm claim in Alex’ words, but he seemed to understand anyway. A little baffled, Alex let the biomass smooth into his skin. He had simply adopted Mercer’s physical state before he died, which meant he’d always look pale and sleepless, but all in all, it was a reasonable human body.

 

The biomass folded down smoothly, black and red chaos traded in for milky skin.

 

“I’m serious, Desmond. I don’t feel...about anything as I do about you. I’d  _ end  _ the world if something happened to you.”

 

Desmond let his eyes trail over pale skin, followed by his hands that started at Alex’ sharp hip bones and wandered up to his shoulders. He put weight on them and leaned over Alex’ now naked body before he brought both of them together.

The sensation of Alex’ warm body against his had him hum with pleasure, but only for a moment before he decided he could not let Alex wait longer for an answer.

 

He really meant it and it humbled Desmond as much as it made him happy. This man, the most powerful creature on Earth, felt so strongly for him he saw it necessary to call him his intensely and also threaten to end the world if something happened to him.

It was as messed up as it was sweet and that was a good overall description of this virus-turned-guy.

 

Desmond kissed the side of his face.

 

“Love you, too, Alex. You know I do, right? Have done for quite some time.” He kissed the side of his neck, dug his arms into the couch seat only to worm them under Alex so he could hug him, squeeze him against himself.

“No need to claim me, babe, I’m already yours.” His own words had him grin against Alex’ skin.

 

Alex fell into absolute silence with Desmond’s words. How could he be so casual, so callous about this particular topic? He readily confessed to love, even after two years of believing Alex to be dead. Or, perhaps more likely, the two years had helped him understand what he felt and now he was obliged to tell Alex before they could be parted once more.

 

The latter half of this understanding soothed Alex’ minute outrage and he pulled Desmond so tightly against him that he seemed to have trouble breathing for a moment.

 

“No backing out of that claim, Desmond. And whatever it is you plan to do to save the world, I’m coming with you.”

 

Because what use was saving the world if Desmond wasn’t in it? The strength of the conviction, the emotion summoned from deep within him didn’t scare Alex anymore. Desmond was worth it. Worth every strange impulse he caused in Alex Mercer, human and virus in one.

 

When he could breathe again, Desmond leaned his head against Alex’ again, closing his eyes for a moment. The weight of his responsibility was still there, resting right on his shoulders. Alex didn’t know what this was about, he didn’t know that this was beyond his own powers even if they were vast. Alex could not help him directly, but he could help him by just being there. By telling him he was coming with him.

Desmond opened his eyes, smiling lightly. The expression on his face was almost serene in face of what laid ahead of me.

“I’m a very lucky man.” He whispered and kissed Alex again. First on the lips, then on his chin and down his throat, exploring milky skin with his mouth.   
Alex’ hands, Desmond caught in his own, only to hold them down gently on the couch. He was aware this was not really about him being able to hold Alex down, but he was curious to see if this guy still had the same kind of kinks he had when he was human.

 

It was a matter of curiosity and indulgence, nothing more or less. Very few things existed in this world who could hold Alex down at this point, but he allowed Desmond to fantasize. He was a lucky man. 

 

“Luckiest man in Manhattan,” Alex muttered as Desmond pressed him down towards the couch until Alex was flat on his back, somehow, with Desmond throning on him. Desmond could do anything to Alex and easily get away with it. Perks of his long-term acquaintance, and now, as someone who Alex was very attached to. Only two people in the world could claim that.


	17. Chapter 17

Alex looked up at him, expectant, curious, a little confused. Was this a new sort of powerplay kink, or was Desmond really playing with the thought that he could dominate him?

 

“You got something on your mind?”

 

“Just testing things out. Dunno if you remember, but you used to get off on this a lot.” Desmond grinned down at him. For him, it was about the moment. Didn’t actually matter what they ended up doing, if it wasn’t talking about the future or any world saving activities. He did not want to think about it, not now. Now was all about figuring out to what virus-Alex reacted.

 

Of course he could not hold him down, that was idiotic to think. But he could pretend to.

He got up on his knees and reached for Alex’ shoulders to turn him. It was futile, really, he should’ve thought about this. There was no way he could just turn him like a grilled sandwich.

  
“... turn around?” Desmond asked, amused and a little embarrassed about the situation.

 

Alex stared at him for a long moment, before his face broke apart into a grin and he actually laughed. It wasn’t a nice sound, but that’s because Alex’ voice tended to turn into chalkboard when he did actually laugh. 

 

“You’re serious. You think you’re gonna fuck me?”

His tone wasn’t filled with mockery per say, but he also didn’t sound as if he was going to let Desmond try his hand at his suggestion.

 

Alex laughing was so odd that it put Desmond out of being embarrassed or even only slightly put off. It confused him if anything.

 

“Yeah? I mean, I’d like to. You know I can make it good.” The grin on Alex’ face did not fade and it was weird how it managed to make him look even more attractive. To Desmond anyway. Surely anyone else would see the visage of a predator ready to devour, but Alex expressing amusement without any mockery in it was quite surprising.

 

“No. That’s not what’s happening tonight.” Alex came back up, no longer willing to play wide-eyed and passive participant to Desmond’s burgeoning kinks. Tonight, he was going to satisfy needs that Desmond couldn’t dream of having, all without tearing this man that he cherished apart.

 

Alex’ body sprouted helpful tendrils which slithered over Desmond’s arms and lifted him as Alex reversed their positions before knocking the back out of the couch. It fell over flat, extending their space, and Alex wasted no time in crawling over Desmond. His clothing biomass smoothed into skin and hair and one naked virus was now licking his lips above Desmond as his tendrils caressed with little to no shame.

 

“I have waited for this. Too long, Des.”

 

Just a few seconds ago he’d been lifted up by goddamn tentacles, watching Alex take the couch apart with a flick of his wrist, basically, and now he had the guy on top of him, looking like one of those sex aliens from the porn movies Desmond definitely had never watched.

Except that the movies were bullshit and Alex was very real.

And very naked.

Desmond swallowed as he noticed his throat was dry and his heart beating fast. There was something about Alex, he’d always known that, something that made any human’s basic instincts tell you to get away as fast as possible. Maybe it was the way he smelled, because he could look like anything really, or maybe it was just the feeling of those tendrils on him, that didn’t feel like anything else Desmond had ever felt.

Slimy, but without leaving trails on him, ever changing and hungry, like they had a mind of their own.

 

Alex throned on him like a distorted sort of god in his derelict kingdom and Desmond was proud of that metaphor, because it wasn’t really one to begin with.

He reached out to touch Alex’ thigh, put his hand on pale skin and squeeze lightly as he looked up at him with warm eyes.

 

“Anything, Alex. Like I said before.”

  
  


“Shhh...” Alex let one, thick tendril rest over Desmond’s mouth. His eyes grew a little more hazey, feverish. He had the ultimate treat sprawled out beneath him. Desmond could have escaped straight out of one of Alex’ misplaced fantasies. Willing, vulnerable, delicious.

 

More of Alex’ body took on the black and red of the viral cells as his shoulders flared a little. A shudder rampaged down his spine and Alex licked over his teeth, trying his best to keep the fantasy of making Desmond an unmistakable part of him at bay. No. He was going to consume him in an entirely new way.

 

The tendrils, always hot to a human touch, slid between Desmond’s legs, coiled around his cock, brushed over his ass, following the crack of it with eager, slick movements.

 

“Mine. All of you, mine.”

 

Again with the claim to him? Desmond couldn’t deny it was kind of hot. Alex looked like he was fighting his own urges, the rippling and flaring of his form proof to his excitement. For what his body was straining, Desmond did not want to think about. He knew what Alex did with human matter, usually.

But he trusted him, enough to not worry about it. Instead, Desmond found himself utterly, undeniably attracted to the way Alex desired him in his very own way.

The view of Alex licking his teeth, eyes fixated on his prey as if he was trying to hypnotise him, was certainly arousing enough in itself, but Alex did have to outdo himself and put his damned tendrils on his privates like it was what he’d craved ever since he got like this.

 

“You’re so fucking intense, holy hell, Alex. Fuck.” The tendrils tightened their hold around his cock. Desmond gasped, goosebumps forming all over his body. Alex was sure playing his cards right.

 

“Des, be quiet,” Alex hissed, covering Desmond’s mouth with his hand, but only very gently, fingers stroking the skin of his cheek. His tendrils found it very easy to secrete a little sticky fluid to smooth things along, and Alex had the distinct advantage of being able to engulf Desmond’s dick with one tendril and push another into him at the same time. 

 

Another ripple ran over Alex’ body and he growled something wordless, releasing Desmond’s mouth as he moved along his body, Alex’ mouth marking a trail over his chest. Sharp fangs bit at Desmond’s nipples, and it would have been easy to rip through the skin, but Alex was so, so careful, even as he shuddered with lust and hunger.

 

Desmond tried to follow the order, he tried really hard, but Alex was turning it into a gargantuan task, something he could definitely not do in the end. Luckily, he still had his hand pressed to his mouth so when Desmond moaned from the combined sensory input, it was at least muffled.

 

Alex was on him as if he’d been starving for this. Parts of him were thick black and red biomass from where he produced the tendrils. His form seemed to be in constant movement due to his own desires. Seeing, witnessing, feeling Alex like this, wanting and full of hunger, made the whole situation even better.

There was a tentacle sliding into his ass, his cock was getting a blow- and handjob at the same time and Alex had fangs to bite at his nipples with and it was all like the ultimate kink fantasy Desmond never knew he had.

 

He was still being straddled of sorts by Alex and Desmond managed to move his hands and grab his thighs, hold onto him somehow. He was warm, warmer than usual, and his skin reacted to the touch by letting his fingers sink into him, enveloping him like it would consume him, but never actually did so.

 

It wasn’t enough. Alex only used enough pressure on Desmond’s body to leave bruises, ad-versed to actually injuring his treasure. A drop of blood or two escaped Desmond and Alex lapped it up greedily. 

 

Good, but still not  _ enough _ .

 

“You have no idea what you do to me,” Alex growled as he finally let Desmond’s nipples be and moved down with a sharp jerk, watching himself pull and rub at Desmond’s privates with his tendrils.

 

It was mesmerizing to watch Desmond’s cock appear and disappear between the familiar black and red. 

 

“Or maybe you do. Do you want more of me? Can you handle it?”

 

It took Desmond about five seconds until he even understood that Alex wanted him to talk. The hand was gone from his lips, and so was most of all rational thought from his brain.

The tendril inside of him had grown considerably and the thing seemed to know exactly just how to move, how to grow thicker and more slick so it would not hurt him in the slightest. Much the opposite, it was horribly arousing to have his body invaded like this.

 

And then Alex asked him if he could take more. He understood the question, finally, and managed to look up at him, hazel eyes cloudy with lust, lips parted to allow for easier breathing.

 

“I want all you dare to give me.” Desmond brought out, breathless and helplessly horny in face of the human-shaped killing machine on top of him.

Perhaps that was a kink on its own, but Desmond didn’t have much of a brain to muse about it.

 

“Clever,” Alex smirked, but he wouldn’t linger on Desmond’s little excuse for consent for long. He was too eager, too greedy. The tendril in Desmond’s ass was thick by now, and technically, it would make no difference to Alex if it was that tendril or his hand or his dick. All of him was made of the same biomass, all of him could feel as much or as little as he wanted to.

 

Keeping his human shape was, however, still second nature to him, which was why Desmond could gaze upon a mostly intact Alex Mercer and not just a horny mess of tendrils and tentacles.

 

Alex shuffled back, found enough space between Desmond’s legs so he could continue to enjoy the view, from his abandoned, hard cock to where Alex’ tendril was pulsing thickly into him. Alex’ lips lifted into a grin once more. Smaller appendages wrapped around Desmond’s legs, prying them up and bending them at the knee until he was spread nice and widely before Alex.

 

The thick tendril pulled out of Desmond with a wet little pop.

 

“Last chance to back out, Des. I can’t promise I won’t eat you if you feel too good.”

 

Desmond groaned when the tendrils left both his ass and his cock and instead wrapped around his thighs and lower legs to handle him like a doll and pulled him up, spreading him for their master.

Now that he couldn’t hold onto Alex’ thighs anymore, Desmond held onto the couch instead, trying to ground himself in some form, because being suspended by tentacles belonging to the guy you were hopelessly into was unreal.   
Even if Desmond had known that Alex could do many things with his body and even if he maybe sometimes had fantasised about Alex using his skills for pleasure, Desmond’s pleasure, it was no comparison to how it actually felt.

Mainly because in his fantasy, the elements of feeling so utterly at Alex’ mercy, but being cared for in the best way at the same time, did not exist.

It was the most arousing thing Desmond had ever felt and so he was quick to shake his head.

 

“Not backing out, no way. If that means you’ll eat me, okay. I trust you to make it worthwhile.”

 

Idiot. Alex wasn’t going to keep him waiting any longer, but the suicidal nature of Desmond’s arousal was definitely going to come up in a later conversation. If Alex remembered, of course.

 

His dick was barely keeping its shape, and he made no effort to keep it fixated on human form as he pushed into Desmond. It felt no different than being in him before, but the thicker head meant Desmond squeezed harder around him. Alex let his hands rest on Desmond’s hips, holding him still until he was fully inside of him. A deep, shuddering breath was all that escaped him.

 

“ _ Fuck _ .”

 

This wasn’t Desmond’s first time taking dick, it wasn’t even his second or his third. It certainly felt like it though because this was unlike anything he’d ever experienced before.   
Alex was so warm inside of him, pressed against him like he was and then there was the sensation of what should be his dick moving around inside of him like a living thing.

It should have put him off of it, it definitely should. Instead, Desmond arched his back and dug his fingers into Alex’ arms (or tried to, because they would most definitely not give).

 

He tried to comment on the feeling, tried to tell Alex that this was the weirdest experience ever, but when he opened his mouth, he only brought a sort of keening noise out, wanting and desperate.

 

Desmond was rendered incapable of speech, which was a great sign, and it also left Alex completely without direction about what to do with the prone body in his grasp. Desmond’s fingers were clenched into Alex’ arms, anchored as if he would drift off on a stormy sea without Alex right there with him.

 

Good, because Alex too was struggling. Mostly with temptation, because Desmond was wet and soft everywhere that Alex cared to feel. He was like a delicious little morsel, dangling within reach, nothing but a gossamer veil hiding it from sight. And yet, Alex staunchly resisted.

 

Instead, he moved his hips, steadied the wild urge to rip Desmond apart, and moved his cock. Granted, it was a little more adaptive than a regular, human dick, with its roughened surface that produced little ridges to give Desmond a better chance to feel good, but other than that, it basically stayed in shape.

 

It took Desmond about half a minute until he finally woke from his stupor and let go off Alex’ arms. Instead, he reached to put one hand on the back of his neck, the other on his side to steady himself.

He met Alex’ eyes, the hunger in them pure thrill for Desmond that spurred him on to move his lower body into Alex’ thrusts.

Clinging to Alex was essentially like hanging off of the ceiling, he absolutely did not budge, even when Desmond held onto him more only to fuck himself more thoroughly.

 

“What is it, Alex?” He muttered, breathless, voice hoarse, hand wandering from his neck to the tousled black locks, mussing through them, “What is it that I do to you?”

 

Oh, so now he was getting chatty. Perhaps Alex should have left his tendrils in Desmond’s mouth instead. Then again, hearing his voice, knowing he was alive and he thoroughly wanted all of this was definitely a plus. Alex leaned over Desmond until his lips touched his ear.

 

“You make me want to lose control, Des. I want to taste you, feel you, every little piece of you. I’m inside of you, but it’s not enough,” The tendril that had previously treated Desmond’s dick to some much-needed attention snaked between their bodies, engulfing it once more and sucking eagerly on it.

 

Desmond cursed, hooked his arm around Alex’ neck and kept him where he was, his lips near his ear, just so he could lean their heads together as waves of pleasure went through him.

“You feel good, Alex, so, so good…” He murmured, “Like you’re supposed to do this to me. Like you being with me like this is how it should be.”

He’d had quite a lot of sex in his young life, but never had Desmond felt anything like this before. All of him was straining for Alex, wanted him deeper, wanted himself to be inside of Alex in turn, be one with him.

 

When understanding came to him, the truth behind all of it, Desmond oddly did not feel any different. He wanted Alex to consume him, felt at peace with the thought of disappearing into the being that rightfully outdid him in every aspect.

  
Desmond realised this was the closest he would ever get to that without disappearing and so, he held Alex as close to him as possible.

 

“Like you should make me yours entirely.”

  
  


It was tempting, terribly tempting, to give Desmond his wish. Alex pushed deeper into him, filling him with more than his vaguely human cock just as the thick tendril over Desmond’s cock swallowed it whole, all the way down to his balls.

 

Alex’ arms were already permanently black and red, tendrils cropping to caress Desmond, to run over his arms before they coiled around him, some laying themselves against his face.

 

“If you keep saying shit like that, I will,” Alex whispered, coming back down to Desmond’s level so that he could kiss him. Alex had never been a gentle lover, and even though he cared deeply for Desmond now, it was still more of a matter of biting, clashing teeth and an eager tongue in Desmond’s mouth.

 

Desmond was glad for the kiss because he wasn’t so sure if he wouldn’t have started to ask Alex for it in earnest. His lips and teeth and tongue on and in his mouth were distracting enough so Desmond focused on the kiss and on the way Alex was already all over and inside him.

This was the height of how they could be together and realising it made Desmond shudder.

 

Alex kissed like he fucked, with eager passion, exerting dominance with every little move he made. This was the first time Alex kissed him, Desmond thought, fire pooling in his belly as Alex’ tendrils slithered all over him, clinging onto his skin like he was the best thing they’d ever latched onto.

 

When they broke the kiss, Desmond was out of breath and panting. There was no way he was going to hold out much longer, not with Alex being so incredibly into this.

 

“Y-you’re going to make me come very quickly if you keep this… keep this up.”

 

“Good. I’ll just keep going,” Alex didn’t know if he could experience a singular orgasm, or any at all. None of his viral existence was based on sex or emotion, but Desmond roused both in him. Perhaps it was the human nature of his original blueprint, of Alex Mercer, to only feel and fuck intensely if the person was worth such attachment. Perhaps Alex Mercer had never felt like this about anyone before, and that’s why he had no memories now of a comparable experience.

 

It made sense. At the same time, Alex simply didn’t care. He fucked Desmond thoroughly, steadily invading more of him, surrounding him with more of Alex. He was already bearing a fine network of tendrils that ensnared most of him.

 

By now, Alex clung to him everywhere. Desmond could feel the steady  hold of the tendrils all over him and it only heightened the sensation. Alex was buried deep inside him, was as much part of him as he could be without taking his body up into his own.

If it was that thought that finally brought him over the edge, or perhaps just the way Alex used his form expertly to maximise pleasure, Desmond didn’t know.

He didn’t care either though, because when his climax finally hit him, he chased after the feeling as long as possible, clinging to Alex, body taut and toes curling.

“Aah… lex,  _ please _ …!” He heard himself moan, but his self-preservation appeared to be intact enough to prevent him from ever finishing his sentence.

 

Alex watched Desmond fall over the edge with rapt attention. Each part of him stilled, forgot how to move, forgot the intense desire to consume the convulsing flesh beneath him. Desmond was too important not to be alive in his own right, and Alex would never allow such harm upon him. Even if Alex could feel nothing but all-consuming hunger as he lingered, crouched over Desmond, buried in him.

 

Perhaps it was Desmond’s wail or the struggle with his self-control, but Alex failed to notice the presence of strangers near his home.

 

“Desmond?!”

Rebecca’s horrified voice sounded tinny as it came from her back-up drone, which accompanied a wide-eyed, slightly green William Miles, who had just arrived in hope to save his son from a monster, and found him in its arms instead.

 


	18. Chapter 18

For a moment, Desmond didn’t believe it to be real. Alex wasn’t moving, was just staring at him, and he would surely do something if someone really was here, right? Just voices in his head, nothing unusual.

He reached for Alex, managed to hold onto his shoulder and pulled himself up so he could wrap both arms around him and hug him tightly.

“Stay like this.” Desmond whispered, pleasure coursing through him still, sated, but still there, “ _ Alex _ …”

 

Turning his head, he had intended to cuddle Alex some more, tried to make use of the situation and an unmoving Alex for him to interact with, but what happened instead had him open his eyes fully. He saw his dad, standing right there next to the AC unit with the dent in it, looking horrified and kind of green around the nose.

 

Those hadn’t been voices, Desmond realised as he saw the drone as well, that had been entirely real.

 

“ _ Dad _ ?!”

 

Alex would have turned into nothing short of the killing machine he was known for being, if Desmond hadn’t said that all important word.

 

Dad.

His family. This was...strange. Alex felt no compulsion to be nice, but also none to kill. He didn’t move away from Desmond at all, tendrils creeping over him possessively, though clothes did form over him again.

 

“Get away from my son, Zeus.” William could only see Desmond, in the throes of something, lots of black mass holding him down, trapping him, threatening him. 

 

“Back off!” Desmond brought out, the situation entirely derailing. At least Alex wasn’t flipping out, though he did feel the ripple going through him and the way his attention shifted from the human in his arms to the one next to the AC.

 

Alex was still  _ inside _ him and he was here, talking to his dad. “Dad, just back off, it’s fine. I’m fine, okay, I’m… ah… good. Real good, just… just turn around for a second, okay?”

There was no way his dad would turn around when faced with a wanted terrorist but he could try, alright?

Alex didn’t seem to be wanting to let him go just yet.

 

His dad made no move to turn around or even look away, so Desmond had to bite into the sour apple.

“Alex, would you, uh, let me go? Just for a moment. I don’t want stuff to get nasty.” And it would get nasty because Alex would not just let some human attack him without reciprocation.

 

“Nasty?” Alex lowered his voice, pressed his body down against Desmond as the tendrils retreated, “Is this fucker really your dad? Do you want me to get rid of him?”

 

It wouldn’t be a problem. It would take all of three seconds, even if he didn’t eat the supposed father of his...Desmond. But he suspected human attachment was about to stand in his way, and he wouldn’t be wrong.

“No, no, he’s really my dad, just--  _ hnnh…  _ fuck, you could have  _ shrunk  _ that at least!”

This was ramping up to be one of the most horrible things you could experience. Desmond peered over Alex’ shoulder. His dad was still there, staring at them.

 

“Fuck my life, he’s still there. Still looking, yep.”

 

Alex retreated from him whilst Desmond was already fishing for his pants, trying to wiggle back into them at least before he left what small cover Alex’ human form offered.

 

With nothing but his jeans on, he finally managed to get up on wobbly feet. Desmond cleared his throat. He spread his arms slightly away from his body.

 

“All good.”

 

Except for the rather obvious marks on him. It wasn’t just bitemarks, it was blooming bruises and a slight sheen of slime that the tendrils had produced for whatever reason.

 

Alex still put himself between Desmond and his supposed father, not in the mood to trust this man within five paces of Desmond.

 

William cleared his throat and took his hand away from the camera on the tiny drone, sheathing the gun he’d brought now that he understood that Zeus was not, in fact, eating Desmond.

 

“...You seem acquainted.”

 

Alex grinned.

“I guess you didn’t write home about me, hm?”

 

“Didn’t have my equipment. Not like I would have written to him anyway.” Desmond muttered under his breath, reaching for his shirt.

This was all sorts of messed up.

 

“Alex is a… friend.” Desmond tried to explain as he pulled the shirt back over his head, “You wanted to know what is in Manhattan that made me stop and think?”

He pointed at Alex.

“I thought he was dead. Until I saw him before the jump earlier. I’m not suicidal.”

 

“That’s hard to believe when you leap off of buildings and into the arms of a bioweapon, Desmond. Jesus Christ, I was worried.” More like terrified and anxious because his son was either decorating a Manhattan sidewalk or being eaten by a monster, but William didn’t like making a scene.

 

Alex was sidelined in this conversation, but also vastly amused.

 

“Well, come on. You need to retrieve the...thing we came for.”

 

-x-

 

With Alex’ help, Desmond reached the original target location way easier, but there was nothing to be found there.

Rebecca and Shaun awaited them in a more or less safe building at the edge of the island.

 

The journey back had been unpleasant with his father trailing behind and Alex unwilling to carry both of them but at the same time annoyed that they could only go so fast. They ended up in an old car that Alex drove rather recklessly.

William looked a bit green in the face when they reached the building and Desmond gloated about it in secret.

His dad was annoying, especially because he played the voice of reason at all times and with Alex around, Desmond was sorely tempted to not listen to it at all.

 

Nonetheless, they met up with Shaun and Rebecca. Shaun took a step back when Alex moved in and Rebecca, always the brave soul, stood where she was, eyes transfixed on him.

 

“Uh, so, this is going to be awkward, but let’s get it over with… Dad, Rebecca, Shaun, this is Alex Mercer, my…” Desmond remembered Alex’ words on the roof earlier this day, “Boyfriend.”

 

The reactions were a mixed bag. Shaun looked a little ghost-like, maybe nauseous, Rebecca’s eyebrows were on a journey to find the sky’s limit and William...well, William tensed like a coil. 

With what he’d seen earlier, it wasn’t that much of a surprise, but ‘boyfriend’ implied that they’d not only known each other previously, but that Desmond had kept a secret from him and his assassin allies that was beyond a little white lie.

 

“Are you crazy?!” Were the first words out of William’s mouth, and he stared Desmond down, hard. If they needed to go another round of punches, he would oblige.

 


	19. Chapter 19

Alex hung behind Desmond like a dark, stormy cloud, even if he was a good half head shorter than him. His boyfriend. Desmond was adorable, introducing him like that. They’d come to Manhattan. Every single one of these people knew exactly what his name meant, and who he was, but Desmond introduced him as his  _ boyfriend _ , nothing more, nothing less. He’d watch how this played out, a dark little smirk on his lips.

 

Desmond had been ready for this, but he hadn’t expected it now. Not when Alex was a guarantee for them to get the artifacts as quickly as possible.

He crossed his arms in defiance, narrowing his eyes.

 

“This is the I-don’t-know-how-many-eth time you’ve asked me that and I can’t give you an answer still. I do things my way and I don’t see a problem with this.”

 

If there was a problem, at any point, Alex would just annihilate it. Therefore, there literally was no problem.

 

“What’s your problem, dad? What am I fucking up now?”

 

“Desmond, I mean, that’s, you know, ZEUS.” Rebecca mentioned helpfully. Alex took a step forward, and three humans took a quick pace back. His smirk solidified a little.

 

“Yeah, I am. People call me all sorts of things.” Alex prowled around before Desmond, three steps one way, three steps the other, all the while fully aware of the attention resting solely on him. This was how regular humans not named Desmond were supposed to react to him.

 

“Though they’re usually too busy running, screaming, crying,” he trained his gaze on the redhead, “pissing themselves.”

 

William’s glare returned to Desmond.

 

“He’s a m...he’s...how could this happen, Desmond?!”

 

“He’s a  _ man _ , dad, you can say it.” Desmond growled, glad for Alex’ support in this. He clearly had the upper hand here, though he kinda really didn’t want his dad to try and punch him again. Alex would probably get rid off him instantly.

“Jesus Christ, I didn’t think you’d be a fucking homophobe. I’m bi, dad, I like women  _ and _ men.”

 

Rebecca and Shaun managed to tear their eyes away from Alex for a second because Desmond’s words were just unbelievable. Did he really not get it?

 

“Alex is our best bet at getting all the artifacts and he’s willing to help us. We should get them in no time.”

 

There was a sort of numb moment of silence in which William tried to process Desmond’s words. It had to be a terrible joke on his behalf, right? 

No, it wasn’t. Desmond seemed utterly convinced that his father couldn’t mean anything else other than...

 

He rubbed a hand over his face, trying to at least not sound as disbelieving as he looked.

 

“That’s not the issue here, Desmond. That is no man, that is a monster. A biological weapon with a mind of its own. That’s the Blacklight Virus, made by templars. It was a stroke of luck that they couldn’t control it, but that’s no reason to... _ date _ it!”

 

Alex couldn’t help himself anymore. He burst out laughing, not at all offended by being described as a sexless monster. The incredulous look on Desmond’s father’s face, Desmond’s defensive coming out, the faces of the other two assassins...it was like watching a terrible comedy.

 

Said biological weapon’s laughter distracted all of the assassins, including Desmond. They all looked at him with disbelief, but it was Desmond who caught himself first.

  
“Don’t call him an ‘it’!” He warned, “He might be the virus personified, but he’s still a dude. That I fell in love with. Call me an idiot, but that’s the truth and all of you need to get over it so we can go on with this crap.”

 

Desmond looked over at Alex, wondering if it’d help if he said something on the matter. Then he remembered that Alex’ senses were different to human ones and also he was bound to know Manhattan in its current better than any of them.

“Rebecca, please show him what the artifact looks like. I’m sure Alex knows at least roughly where something like that could be.”

 

He side-eyed Alex with a sort of pleading look. If they all could only focus on their task ahead, they wouldn’t have to argue about Alex’ identity.

 

Rebecca looked over to William, not sure if she could just go along with Desmond’s suggestion when the mentor of the brotherhood was still struggling with the reality of his son living out some kind of beauty and the beast complex, but when he didn’t give her anything to work with, she made the call herself.

 

“Uhm, sure. Here. This is what we came for.” She offered a tablet with a brightly lit image and Alex took it from her. She was glad he made sure not to touch her, even if it was kind of cool to think that maybe they had someone on their side who rated on a scale with natural disasters. If only the templars were their only enemies now.

 

Alex studied the image for Desmond’s sake.

 

“...I’ve seen this before. At Gentek.”

 

The comment had Desmond listen up and frown. “Gentek? You mean when you still worked there? In the building?”

He looked over at his dad, at Rebecca and Shaun.

“The templars had it, then. But what for? What did it do at Gentek, Alex?”

 

“It made Greene.” Alex stared at the pad, but a shimmer of black and red raced along his body. This object had appeared in some files that had crossed his desk in his time as head researcher. He knew it came from some old tomb or other, but it had never been the object itself that interested Alex Mercer. It was the virus that it had housed, Redlight, named for the effect it had on the lab animals. Red eyes, rabid behavior, a rapid onset of post-mortem activity. It was the base for Blacklight, which improved on every aspect of the original strain. 

 

This object...it looked about the size of a Rubix cube. Golden to dull bronze, it glowed, seemed to have born some etchings of sorts. But it was just a hollow cube, a container of some sort. Where it had been found didn’t matter. What it was made of had been of brief interest, but Alex wasn’t an archeologist; he didn’t care for the how and why of preservation. The virus had been his sole concern.

 

“They contaminated the water in Hope with this thing.”

 

The other assassins didn’t know much about the true story behind the virus outbreak, but Desmond did and the connection behind it was baffling.

 

“So Redlight was originally intended to keep the power source to the Grand Temple protected. Except the Templars got their hands on the thing and spread it around and experimented with it. Holy shit.”

 

He looked back at his father, Shaun and Rebecca. “The virus is connected to all of this.” His gaze returned to Alex, “You’re connected to this. In a way.”

It wasn’t giving them any more information other than that, but Desmond found the link fascinating and slightly creepy. Did everything in his life follow a pre-set path?

 

“Do you know where it is? We need it. It’s a power source.”

 

“It contains a power source.” Rebecca corrected.

 

“The building is...difficult to access. Unless you like climbing over rotting meat.” Alex already knew where to look. He’d hoarded his research and the biomass around the city in the building that had witnessed his greatest success. And his death. And a plethora of other things, mistakes mostly.

 

He didn’t like what Desmond was implying, but he believed it with ease. Blackwatch, Gentek, everything they did was tangled in strings that pulled in more and more, people and organizations. They respected nothing and once upon a time, neither did Alex.

 

But now, he knew better than that.

 

Alex turned to Desmond, curling an arm around his waist and tugging him in close. He didn’t care for the discomfort of their audience as he leaned up and spoke to Desmond alone.

 

“I’ll get it for you. And then I’m coming with you.”

 

The sweet words had Desmond smile. In a gesture of affection he’d seen almost all of his ancestors do with their beloved, he brought their foreheads together. Alex was smaller than him, but that didn’t matter.

He ignored the sharp inhale coming from his dad and looked at Alex’ gorgeously blue eyes.

 

“Thank you, Alex. There are a few more to go after this one and I’d like to be just romantic and say it’s best with you at my side, but it actually is better with you, so yeah, great idea. Love it. You.”

 

“Cheeseball.” Alex muttered, but he lingered a moment longer. This felt right. He’d been doing nothing of worth for too long. Dana didn’t need him, but Desmond sure did. It was time to leave the Red Zone behind.

 

-x-

 

It was just the tip of the iceberg.

Alex might as well have wandered into a history museum, one that focused on war and conspiracies instead of anything else. It wasn’t as shocking as it could have been, and after what he’d experienced during the Outbreak, and learned from McMullen and Blackwatch, it made sense that this kind of shit went on everywhere, that it didn’t just happen to him in New York.

 

Templars, Assassins, Inus, precursory beings that populated Earth. Alex didn’t believe half of it, but with evidence in the strange technology in hand, it was hard to refute the existence of this whole, mystical-sounding story.

 

The genetic memory machinery was of particular interest to him, and it lead to one of the few actual conversations he managed to have with one of Desmond’s companions. Rebecca told him everything about the Animus, about Precursor/Inu DNA, about the uniqueness of Desmond’s heritage.

 

That part, that was a lot, and it bordered on the insanely fantastic. Still, Alex remained, believed, helped.

 

The Grand Temple was more hard proof of the truth in all of this. It towered, defiant in Alex’ face, daring him to believe that he and his immortality were not the most bizarre wonder that the world had ever produced. 

 

It needed power. The cube from Gentek serving only a third of what they required meant that they needed to find more. And finally, even Shaun seemed capable of forming words and sentences in Alex’ presence. He’d been terrified and silent on the journey from New York to the Temple, but when his expertise came to attention, he recovered himself.

 

Brazil, Egypt. Their journey began to span further and further. The sources of power were of interest to the Templars too, but Alex had come along to help Desmond. And help he did. The recovery of the artifacts became the easiest part of the whole ordeal. Alex and his abilities of disguise made extraction a cakewalk with only one guaranteed casualty in most cases. 

 

It was fun when the fate of the world or whatever they were doing didn’t rest on his shoulders, but Alex soon lost his sense of humor about the whole matter when it became apparent just how heavy the burden was for Desmond. He’d grown gaunt, tired, but iron-willed. Gone was the drifter who mixed Alex a drink with a cheeky comment, years ago. Gone was the young man who wanted to run from his past, run hard and never look back.

 

Desmond grew old under the pressure, and Alex, with all the powers in the world, could do nothing about it. It frustrated him to no end, and he spoke none of it to Desmond. But his forays, his patrols around the Temple area, they became bloodier. Alex lived out his frustration on anyone suspicious who approached their position, while Desmond lay on a glorified massage table and rifled through the memories of his ancestors.

 

Useless was something Alex had never felt, but here he was, standing at the ready as Desmond rose from the Animus and declared that he knew what had to be done.

 

The last piece of the puzzle was, ironically, the easiest to find. From the grave of Achilles Davenport, they retrieved it and returned back to the Temple.

 

Desmond had felt nothing on the entire way. There was emptiness inside him, because what was there to feel for a life on strings? He’d run away from that and here he was, doing what he was supposed to, fulfilling an age-old prophecy, but all it did was rob him of his own self. Like Ezio was only a messenger in the grand scheme of things, nevermind the great man behind this function, Desmond was only the final piece of the story.

Alex was the last connection to the person he’d been, once, but Alex grew distant over time. Desmond knew he was the reason for it, because he was changing, because somehow, opening this Temple seemed to be the end-all-be-all. Saving humanity, and then?

Somehow, he doubted there was a then for him.

 

When they stood in front of the door, Desmond took the last piece in hand, the little pendant they’d found in the grave and grasped it tightly.

His hand didn’t even tremble. He wasn’t afraid. He wasn’t excited or happy either. He felt nothing about this.

 

“Alright. End of the road, huh? Let’s see where this gets us.” He announced, voice even.

 

“Desmond,” a hand adorned with claws folded over Desmond’s and the key. Touching the artifacts had given him discomfort and fucked with his biomass if it wasn’t already pre-armored, so Alex avoided touching the key too, claws resting on Desmond’s hand. Alex didn’t need to apply much pressure to get his point across and still his boyfriend’s haste to find out what lay behind the door. 

 

“You don’t have to do any of this,” he offered, and three people behind them grew tense. Alex didn’t care. What the assassins wanted could be achieved by other means. Desmond wasn’t part of a prophecy, this was all a calculated, long-running plan that was coming to fruition.

But it didn’t have to.

 

“I want you to know; you have a choice.” 

 

Desmond stilled, eyes on the sharp claws that were his boyfriend’s fingers for the time being. They could tear his skin with one little flick of Alex’ wrist, but they were gentle on him, almost like normal hands. Alex would never hurt him.

His words however cut right into his resolve that he’d been trying to steel over the past weeks, months, maybe even years.

 

He let his eyes wander up Alex’ arm, the red and black of the biomass up to the shoulder where it turned into the familiar black, red and grey of Alex’ clothing. And then that ice blue of his eyes, mesmerising to look at.

 

There was no one in the world that would made Desmond stop and think about it, no one but the guy standing next to him.

When Alex Mercer promised you you had a choice, the most powerful being on the planet, you at least had to consider it.

 

Desmond turned towards him, put his other hand on top of Alex’.

 

He knew the options, Alex and he had talked about it. Alex would get them somewhere safe and, being able to survive in harsher conditions, he’d also supply them with everything they needed to survive the solar flare in relative comfort.

 

But that option didn’t save millions of people.

 

Alex’ eyes were warmer than usual and he was frowning lightly. The worry etched into his expression, the silent plea in them tore on Desmond’s heart and made it hurt.

But finally, there wasn’t emptiness in him anymore. He loved Alex, truly did.

 

Leaning down to capture his lips with his own, Desmond wrapped his arm around him, holding the pendant away from him as he knew it caused him discomfort.

 

“Thank you, Alex.” He whispered, “I love you. Whatever happens in there, don’t forget that.”

 

The words were sweet, but their meaning bitter. Alex heard Desmond say goodbye, knew exactly what kind of resolve went into his decision. He’d stood where Desmond stood, between a nuke and his sister and millions of people. Alex wasn’t cold enough to lie and say he didn’t understand Desmond’s choice, but he couldn’t help but feel all the more useless that he could do nothing to stop him.

 

Well. He could  _ stop  _ him. Desmond might be some kind of chosen one at the end of a long, long plot, but he was still human. Alex could take him, steal him away from his destiny and weather out the solar flare. Most of the planet would burn, but Dana and Desmond would be safe. Alex was pretty sure that some kind of post-apocalyptic world would not stand up to him at all.

 

But he couldn’t do that if Desmond didn’t choose it. He’d resent Alex for the rest of his life, if not worse. No, it was Desmond’s choice to make.

 

And he’d made it. That’s why he was kissing him goodbye. Alex grabbed him one last time, leaning their heads together, closing his eyes and breathing deeply.

 

“I love you too. And if you don’t come out of there, I will kill whatever took you from me, and every single thing that created it.”

 

Desmond did not want to let go off Alex because it had something finite to it. He let his hand slip inside of his hood to cover the back of his neck like he did so often. Alex let him, usually, and did so this time as well. They kissed again. 

Alex could stop him, could hold him tight right now and not let him go until he did not have a choice. But Alex Mercer, monster, killer, terrorist, loved him too much to not leave him a choice. They’d fought about it, but he had realised that Desmond made his choice and keeping him from it would mean keeping Desmond from happiness forever.

He loved him, for this insight, for his human nature even though he was anything but.

 

When Desmond pulled away this time, he let go off Alex and took a step back.

 

“I will always try to come back to you.” It was a weak promise, but it was all that Desmond could give him. He turned towards the door and raised the key.

 

“Moment of truth.”

 

Alex knew somehow, that it was a lie.

And he would be right.

 

Desmond’s choice was clear from the beginning, from the moment that he disappeared into the inner chamber of the Temple up until the entire building began to quake. Rebecca and Shaun disappeared out of the entrance first, evacuating as quickly as they could. William fumbled uselessly with the door, pounding his fists against it, calling for Desmond.

 

Alex practically threw him towards the entrance of the cave and Temple, snarling that he should go. William looked like he would protest, but a boulder crashed down, cutting off his return path. Alex was locked in with the door, and beyond it, Desmond.

 

Forcing the door open cost Alex valuable seconds, but once inside, he could feel nothing but emptiness. Desmond, on the ground, still despite the cacophony of the collapsing temple around him, which wasn’t a good sign. 

 

“Des!”

In seconds, Alex crouched over him, and he knew Desmond was dead. No part of him clung to life at all, it wasn’t seeping away. He was just...dead. Warm still, but dead.

 

Alex ignored the debris, the rocks, the pieces of ceiling crashing down around him as he pulled Desmond into his arms, shielding him from being crushed. 

For a wild few seconds, he dug a claw into Desmond’s chest, hoping to find something to infect, something he could use to pull Desmond back by means of Blacklight, but there was no mind to recover, no memories, no person in there anymore, just flesh and bone. But that wouldn’t be Desmond anymore, either.

 

He withdrew his tendril, he closed his eyes, holding Desmond close, feeling the building and cave collapse on top of them. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. Desmond was gone.

 

He didn’t know he could still cry.

 


	20. Chapter 20

Losing Desmond had been the start of something terrible. When Alex re-emerged into the world, he was less than he’d ever been before. Full of wrath and empty of other emotions, he kept his promise to hunt whatever it was that had taken Desmond from him.

The Assassins had a weapon in hand like no other, and William Miles knew where to point it.

Juno.

Her unique existence would find an end at Alex Mercer’s hand. The hunt for her was long and arduous, and it pulled the last shreds of humanity out of Alex. He killed whoever came between him and his target, and he made no difference between people on his side or another. 

 

The Assassins withdrew, and the Templars were foolish until they learned to do the same.

 

Juno had come back into the world, weak and old, and Alex found her after weeks, months of tracking and slaughtering. When he did, she was no match for him. Without technology built to fight him off, and without the artifacts of her people, hidden away by Assassins, she was too weak to be a contender against Alex’ wrath-fuelled rampage.

 

The world never knew what kind of threat had faced it, for all of Juno’s plans came to an abrupt end when Alex consumed her.

 

But her death did nothing to satisfy his anger. He began to look at humanity, searching for signs of redemption perhaps, or worthiness, but no man, woman or child could match up to the sacrifice Desmond had made for them all.

 

And Alex began to resent them for it. He grew bitter as he travelled the world, a hungry shadow who would haunt a city for a while, study the people there, feed as he saw fit and move on. 

Nothing. Nothing could fill the hollowness of his soul, nothing could stop the pain of his aching heart. He never slept, he needed no rest, and that gave him time to think. Far, far too much time.

 

A thousand whispers in his mind could not persuade him to understand that Desmond had not cared about the hearts of men; he’d willingly given his life to save them all.

 

What a fucking waste.

 

Not one soul in this world deserved to live when Desmond did not. Alex tried, for a while, to see it another way; to understand that humanity had to make mistakes in order to grow.

 

But when he came to his roots and found the cockroach corpse of Blackwatch, crawling on, tinkering with samples of Blacklight, it spelled the end.

 

Humanity didn’t learn. It didn’t improve. All it wanted to do was destroy itself, and drown the few, good people that existed in the shitstorm that followed.

 

One whisper among thousands grew stronger;  _ he  _ held the key to humanity’s future. He was the only one who could see, who would know how to improve them. He could select the worthy and cull the rest. No more mindless wars, no more merchants of death, no more noble sacrifices; Alex could put an end to it all.

 

He wound up in Manhattan. It had been years since he cleaned out the first infection, and he was mildly surprised to find it populated once more. Human resilience was one quality he could appreciate.

 

The whisper grew stronger.  _ Rule them _ , it said,  _ Shape them. They are yours. _

 

And Alex began to listen. He let it fill the emptiness, and found his pain stifled by innovation. Yes. He would shape the world. He would drag it, kicking and screaming, into a better future.

 

The second Infection struck harder than the first. Humanity thought it was prepared; it was not. 

Manhattan returned to its former, hellish glory, and Alex ruled it from the shadows, picking and choosing those he deemed worthy of his power. The vanguard of his new, improved human species.

 

The whisper praised him, approved of his meticulous work, and he began to agree; this was the only way into the future.

 

The world watched in horror as the Mercer virus returned. The Assassins understood that this was no accident, and freedom would be no matter to fight over if the world was ruled by the undead.

 

They had their own secrets, and a miracle of history to repeat.

 


	21. Chapter 21

Five years had passed, five years in which the world had changed, and yet, not changed at all.

 

The airports had the same kind of security, nobody found out about the fake ID he’d been given because, well, running around with the ID of a dead man would be suspicious. Probably not for the government, but for the Templars and yeah, that war was still going on.

 

It was like Juno and Minerva had divined on him, the world went on, kept on turning and nobody knew about his sacrifice.

 

Not that Desmond wanted that in the first place, he didn’t wanna be some sort of Jesus to be worshipped. Even if his return to life carried the same miraculous circumstance as that carpenter of legend.

 

It was an Ankh that brought him back, and a Shroud that restored his body. They were, of course, collected by the Assassins and somehow, there’d been a consensus about using them on Desmond Miles; former bartender and apparently, a martyr of the world.

 

It was crazy, but Desmond had learned to live with crazy.

He’d woken up in a secret bunker, with his father at his side as he rose from the dead by the grace of Precursor technology. The world still had need of him, and Desmond learned long ago that there was no use in running from it. 

 

Still, it was fucking weird to accept that he’d  _ died  _ and come back.

But in rolling with the punches, he couldn’t afford to get hung up on that little fact. Instead, he’d been educated on what happened since his death.

Juno’s defeat was a relief. The Second Infection was not.

 

The Assassins tracked Alex Mercer back to his roots, and Desmond was off to Manhattan in a heartbeat.

The journey was the first instance of time that Desmond took to mull the whole situation over.

 

Alex had heeded his promise alright. He had single-handedly taken care of Juno as soon as she appeared, had fought her, killed her and consumed her. The Assassins had been awed, but kept track of him after only to find he returned to Manhattan and  _ changed _ .

Not only himself, but the whole place. Like a plague, he’d descended upon the world, proving every worry that William had had when he’d first personally met Mercer into a reality. He’d just been a ticking timebomb, disguised as a man.

  
But nothing his father said could keep Desmond from finding out the truth, himself. He never feared Alex, despite what he could do. He knew better; he knew what mind lay behind the monstrous powers, and he refused to believe the explanation of Alex having turned to evil, inevitably. It was bullshit. The man, virus, whatever, the person that Desmond had known had a conscience, and every opportunity to become a villainous nightmare. Alex had never given him the impression of  _ wanting  _ to be a nightmare, however, and that’s why he was on his way to Manhattan.

 

Desmond had come in by boat, avoiding the militant warzone that New York had become once more.

It required more than simply blending in and sneaking, but Desmond had awoken from death with a few more aces up his sleeve.

 

Eagle vision, for example, did not only let him see people’s intentions anymore, but let him actually look further into the distance which came in useful when you were looking for someone. It was weird, but he didn’t question it. All of him was some sort of miracle to the Assassins, even the scientists, but with Blacklight involved and knowing what Alex was capable of, Desmond wasn’t even surprised. Nothing could surprise him anymore, not even the traces of viral tissue that had been found in his body. He didn’t become a tentacle monster, however, so he ruled out an infection.

 

All of his new skills allowed him to navigate the hellscape of Manhattan, and sooner rather than later, he found the golden glow he’d been looking for. On a rooftop on an unnamed building, among debris and viral tendrils, Desmond found him.

 

But he’d not been prepared for the state he’d find Alex Mercer in.

 

Desmond had seen him shot in the head and regenerate. Hell, the guy had taken a nuke and regenerated, but someone had actually managed to severe his limbs to a point where they didn’t grow back.

The stumped torso bore the familiar leather jacket, though there were no arms left, both of them ripped off just below the shoulder, and Desmond swore he could see bone.

 

Never in all of his time knowing Alex had he seen him actually mutilated, without the churning biomass racing to stitch itself back together.

He’d look dead, if it wasn’t for the groaning and slow movement.

 

“Alex?” Desmond brought out.

 

Bleeding and pain were among the things Alex Mercer never considered a problem for him, and here he was, proven wrong. Without arms to right himself, and lacking the strength to change shape, he made for a pitiful, stumped body that crawled only by the use of his legs, shifting until he could kneel.

 

Voices were nothing new, and this voice in particular had haunted him for a long, long time. He felt the familiar rush of anger at the thought, the memory of Desmond. It wasn’t his own, came from a part of him that lived a new life, that craved a new world. A part of him that wanted nothing more than control over everything, a humble goal.

 

Alex raised his head, eyes burning red as he scolded Desmond’s ghost for its impatience.

“I’m fucking working on it. Fuck, Des, I’m on my way. Not long now.”

 

It was pitiful and tore at Desmond’s heart to see the man he loved crawl around in the dirt like this. His voice was a mere shadow of what it had once been, it was a mere hoarse whisper, but he heard him anyway.

The words had him frown for a second. What was he on about? Working on what? On his way? Without arms? Where would he go if he was crippled like this?

 

Desmond knelt down next to him, hands on his head. There was blood coming out of him, it fell on the ground and turned into a wobbly mass there, the virus’ true form. He didn’t care, stroked Alex’ head.

When he looked up at him, with those eyes of his that turned back to blue the longer he stared, anger changing into a deep kind of yearning, realisation chilled Desmond to the bone.

Alex was dying and worse, he  _ wanted _ to die.

 

And since he was indestructible by any human means that meant whatever had reduced him to this was still around.

An impact on the other side of the rooftop had him look up. The guy was bigger than Alex, bulkier and seemed to have suffered somewhat during their fight, but he was still up on his feet, arms ending in the same big claws that Alex’ could turn into if he still had been able to form them.

  
Anger welled up in Desmond and he got up. Perhaps this one time he had the chance and means to return the favour to Alex and protect him for once.

 

“Stop right there.” He said, calmly, “That’s enough. Look, whoever you are, you’ve beaten him, now fuck off.”

 

Heller didn’t take too kindly to someone standing in the way of his vengeance, but he could smell that this was a human. A regular human, not one of Mercer’s little bitches, come to sacrifice themselves for their master.

 

That was perhaps the only reason he didn’t just punt this kid out of the way.

 

“You got two seconds to move, or you’re going where he is. To hell.”

 

Alex heard and felt Heller arrive. It was almost over, wasn’t it? His death would come at the hands of the one he’d created for it, just as planned. The part of him, he’d called it Zeus some days, was furious. He was trying to improve the world, forge a new humanity that wouldn’t be vulnerable to things like solar flares and nuclear wars. A human species that would never again demand sacrifices from people with good hearts like Desmond. A species that Alex could guide towards an enlightened existence.

 

Heller was talking to someone, and distinctly not killing him yet. Alex opened his eyes again, regretting that he’d die with the sight of Heller instead of the vision of Desmond stroking his head lovingly, but he had to see what was happening.

 

The vision of Desmond had moved in front of him. Alex was level with its -  _ his  _ knees at best, and he could see Heller just beyond. It was strange that it sounded like the apparition had come to defend Alex, but he didn’t question his ailing sanity anymore. It showed him Desmond all the time anyway, why wouldn’t it bring him here, to Alex’ last moments?

 

Which were lasting longer than he’d like. Heller was close, why wasn’t he striking? Alex didn’t want to wait any longer, Desmond was already beckoning from beyond death. He’d waited five years. Alex wouldn’t keep him waiting any longer.

 

“You getting cold feet, Heller? Scared to be top dog?”

 

Desmond almost turned away from the guy when Alex started  _ taunting _ him. So he was right. Alex was suicidal and intended to die in the only way possible.

 

He kept his eyes trained on Heller for a moment. The guy looked really angry and whatever had transpired between him and Alex probably wasn’t nice.

But he seemed reasonable enough, hadn’t just tried to flick him aside or kill him, but accepted that Desmond stood between them. For now.

 

“Let me speak to him. I knew him before. When he was human, even.” Desmond demanded from Heller who looked anything but amused, but Alex needed to understand that this was all happening. He seemed to find himself delusional, assumed that Desmond was just some sort of cruel play of his mind. It was horrible to imagine what these five years had done to him if it had come to this and Desmond felt his heart twist with sadness on Alex’ behalf.

 

He knelt down again but kept aware of Heller. The guy was here to kill Alex, he couldn’t be trusted.

 

“Alex. This is real. I’m here. They… I… was brought back.” He tried, but Alex just looked at him with disdain, obviously not believing what he heard.

The situation was worse than imagined.

 

“Alex!” Desmond urged, cupping his face with one hand, but the expression didn’t change. It was cruel to witness and Desmond could only hold out for so long before he leaned in to kiss him, ignorant of the blood on him or the look on his face.

“I’m here.” He whispered against split-open lips, “I want you to live.”

 

Ice blue clung to Desmond’s eyes. Tentative hope, confusion and worry mingled, chased out the anger and hatred. Alex looked at Desmond. None of his mad visions had looked like that, so solid, so concerned. They’d always been surrounded with a soft, golden glow, or something equally cheesy. Vision Desmond always looked at him with disappointment and expectation in one, not this soft desperation.

 

And most importantly, vision Desmond never touched him. He should have noticed it earlier, but Alex was preoccupied with the imminent death he’d orchestrated for himself.

 

“Desmond?” he whispered, voice broken, thin and frail with a spark of hope.

 

“Fuck this shit, move kid.” Heller had seen enough. He bullied Desmond aside and grabbed his creator, fully ready to put this crazy part of his life to rest.

 

“Time to die, you fucking bastard.” He snarled, arms changing to claws.

 

Alex understood. The second Desmond was sure of that, his hand closed around the Apple in his backpack.

 

“Time to die indeed.” He responded, calmly. Using the Apple was always as horrifying as it was empowering.

 

When Heller moved, he pulled it out and held it up. The golden sphere exploded into light, pulsing out across the rooftop, capturing Heller’s form mid-jump and forcing him down onto the concrete.

 

Desmond pulled Alex more tightly against him.

 

The Apple’s energy ran through him more easily than it had before his own death, but now wasn’t the time to think about that.

Heller didn’t work like humans did, he could not just make him kill himself, but he could hold him in place at least, force him still.

 

“Can you get up?” He asked Alex, voice soft, but strained as he held control over Heller using the Apple, “Here, lean onto me. Yeah, just like that.”

 

Desmond’s arm around Alex’ back, his form leaning heavily on him, they finally managed to get up.

It felt like forever, the time it took until they had reached Heller. Alex was sluggish and heavy against him, but when they reached him, Desmond turned his head to look at Alex.

 

“Live, Alex, please.”

 

It was just as bizarre and crazy and beyond Alex’ control as Desmond’s death, five years ago in the Grand Temple. Golden light pulsed around them, and some part of Alex was screaming, though thankfully, it wasn’t out loud. It was getting more difficult to keep his shape, the virus wanting to retreat into a more natural glob of tentacles to recover, but Alex had something else in mind.

 

This Desmond was real. He could smell and feel him where they touched, and if he had arms left, he would pull him against him and maybe taste him properly and then ask him how the fuck he managed to cheat death. Then maybe kiss him angrily before demanding more answers. All of that, however, required him to be whole again, and not a melting, half-butchered, walking corpse.

 

Heller was frozen, a statue before him, his face twisted in anger, his claws sharp and glinting, but all of him was helpless before Desmond’s command to Alex.

 

Alex stumbled away from Desmond, staring up at Heller as smaller tendrils sprouted from his stumps and sides.

 

“Sorry Heller. Maybe next time.” Or maybe never, because James would cease to exist in just a moment. Alex pulled himself closer and up, the same old technique he’d used since he consumed his first hunter, and his body greedily took what it so craved.

 

Desmond watched him consume. It was like feeding a sedated lion to a wounded shark, but he had no pity for Heller. Nobody should be getting this close to killing Alex, not even if he wanted it.

When Heller’s form disappeared into Alex’, he lowered his arm, the gold light retreating back into the Apple.

He gasped, greedily sucking in air as his heartbeat picked up from being slowed into a fast staccato. The Apple had odd effects on him, still, but none of the like that he’d seen Ezio experience, nor did it have any addictive qualities for him as it had for Altair.

 

The Apple went back to his backpack. Good that he’d brought the thing, in wise foresight of what was going on here.

Alex regenerated in front of his eyes, grew his arms and healed his wounds.

Heller was gone.

 


	22. Chapter 22

Behind Alex, Manhattan was very different than when Desmond had seen it last. Infection had spread throughout the city once more.

“Alex…” Desmond addressed him, but something in him made him hesitate to come closer. Something was off, especially when, as the last part of his regeneration, Alex’ icy eyes turned a blazing red, “What’s going on here?”

 

“A new world, Desmond.” Alex’ voice changed almost immediately. Heller’s addition restored him to full strength, and every ounce of world domination instinct was returned to him. He flexed his newly formed arms, smiled sweetly for Desmond as he prowled towards him.

 

“Don’t you like it? You helped make it. Your choice in the temple paved the way, and your companion provided the means.”

 

That couldn’t be.

It was Desmond’s turn to be thoroughly surprised in facing the resurrection of someone well-known that should, in theory, be dead.

The Assassins had been very descriptive in their stories about Alex taking out Juno and yet, those were not Alex’ words, that wasn’t what Alex wanted, definitely not.

 

“Provided the means? Alex! If you’re in there, it’s about time you come out now. I thought you didn’t like people controlling you.”

 

Before his journey here, Desmond had considered what to bring. Some clothes to change were a given, but he’d been weirded out if his first instinct had been to bring the Apple and then on second notice, the Vessel.

 

They’d never quite been able to figure out what it did after Alex had brought it from Gentek and then recovered from the Temple. It was just a cube and now that Redlight was gone from it, it remained that. There had not been anything inside, not like Rebecca had originally thought.

 

And yet, Desmond had brought it.

 

Using the Apple was futile here because in control of Alex wasn’t a human mind, but that of a Precursor.

His only chance was the Vessel. But how to use it?

Desmond backed up, trying to get through to Alex.

“Come on, Alex. You can’t just let her play you like this!”

 

Confusion played over Alex’ face, the burning crimson of his eyes flickering to light blue for just half a second.

 

It took Juno no longer than that to understand that Desmond was trying to distract her by getting his lover to re-emerge. It was very human of him to believe mere willpower would help in a situation like this. Oh, he was a remarkable specimen, and she would like not to kill him. 

 

“It’s useless, Desmond. He is mine now, and you will be too. You can be reunited with him, and help me populate the world anew. You’re a good man, Desmond; it is no wonder you’ve earned the love of a monster.”

The eyes flickered again, and the self-assured smile on Alex’ face wavered.

 

“You’ve already sacrificed enough. Come. Be part of him, part of the new world.”

 

“He’d hate your new world and he’d take it apart if he could. Alex, do you hear me? You used to hate shady fucks like this one.”

 

Desmond knew it was dumb and illusory to think that mere talking would give Alex the upper hand on something that had been going on for five years.

But if anything, he could tell by the flicker in his eyes that Alex was reacting to it somewhat.

Time to kick it up a notch.

He stopped moving backwards and instead took a step forward until Alex’ form was nearly pressed against him.

 

“You wanna eat me, Alex? I know you’d like nothing more than that but you  _ can’t _ .” It was stupid of him to believe that, but not killing Desmond had somehow become a key priority of this entire variant of the virus and he doubted Juno could overpower that easily.

 

He raised his hands and placed them on Alex’ shoulders, running them up to frame his face, trusting him as he leaned their foreheads together.

“I promise I will get you out of this. I’m so sorry, Alex.”

 

Alex snarled, a noise that was far beyond what any human should sound like. His hands clasped at Desmond, and tendrils shuddered across his back and shoulders. Still, the claws came, and they didn’t hesitate to dig into Desmond’s body. Clothes, skin, flesh...everything was like paper before Alex’ weapons.

 

With the claws sunken into Desmond’s waist, blood began to drip over Alex’ arms. He smiled again, not moving his head away from Desmond’s at all, furious red piercing his gaze.

 

“You choose death again, Desmond. How wonderfully predictable of you.” 

Alex’ body produced thicker tendrils to wrap around Desmond, to claim him and consume him like Heller, moments ago. In just a few seconds, his bones would be crushed, his body ripped apart as it would nourish and strengthen Alex. Just a few seconds, and this marvelous resurrection would prove to be nothing but-

 

He was still.

 

Alex could feel the tendrils in Desmond, his claws on his waist, but he couldn’t move. It was as if someone had gripped him, his entire existence and wrenched control out of his hands. 

 

Gritting his teeth, Desmond tried to suppress noises of pain as Alex’ claws dug into him, tendrils coiling around him like snakes, the smaller ones piercing clothes and skin. Alright, he had not seen this one coming, he thought the virus would not follow the command of Juno, but here he was, proven wrong.

He wrenched his heart towards his backpack, managed to find the clunky shape of the Vessel as pain shot through him in agonising waves.

Desmond groaned, something wet was soaking his sides and he knew it to be blood, his own, most likely.

 

The Vessel did nothing, not even when he pulled off the cover. At least it looked that way and then, Alex stilled. His whole form, every tendril, every claw currently stuck in Desmond froze up.

A few seconds passed, and Desmond tried to move the Vessel between them. It was his only chance.

As soon as it pressed against his chest, it began to glow from the inside, shining up at Alex, illuminating his frozen form from below.

 

For a moment, Alex thought that Desmond had stuck him with a syringe or something. A memory of Bloodtox sprang to mind immediately, but there was no piercing pain, no sudden weakness. But there was a duller pain, as if someone was extracting his bones, pulling them slowly through bloody flesh and rags of skin. Alex didn’t need to breathe, and he stopped, because each rise and fall of his chest aggravated whatever Desmond was doing to him.

 

Something was leaving his body. Blood? Biomass? He couldn’t tell. But he could look Desmond in the eyes, could see that he was real, he was alive, and he was here.

 

Alex felt like he was waking from a sleep, or a coma. He could feel his body twitch and recoil, pulling away from the red, fresh wounds on the body in his grasp.

 

Something clattered to the ground, something metal, a cube.

 

“Des?” he asked, staring into his face. Determination and apprehension waned from it.

 

Desmond heard the Vessel fall to the ground, his eyes fixated on Alex’ face. It was working.

Whatever the thing had done, it had worked.

Except that the thing was still open.

Claws and tendrils retracted from his body and Desmond gagged when they did, the pain sharp enough for him to produce a faint whimper.

Blood flushed after and he was hurting all over, but Juno was gone, he knew it, saw it in Alex’ face.

There was only one thing left to do.

 

Getting to the Vessel on the floor was easy, Desmond just gave in to his body’s demands and collapsed. Once on the concrete he managed to roll over and reach for it. As the glowing light darkened, he snapped the lid shut, then rolled over onto his back.

 

“Alex…” He brought out, turned his head to look at him. No red eyes, just a very confused expression awaiting him had Desmond smile despite his wounds.

“It worked. You’re back. I’m back...”

 

“How? Desmond how the fuck did you...oh, fuck, you’re really hurt.” Alex was on his knees in an instant, pulling Desmond back into his arms. This time, he’d hold him with all the delicate care he could possibly muster. He inspected the wounds, and found them curiously lacking in depth. The skin, in fact, looked like it was knitting itself back together, which was normal for Alex, but definitely not normal for humans.

 

He cradled Desmond closer, pulling his hood down, checking his pulse.

 

“You’re healing...did....did I infect you? I’m pretty sure I didn’t...fuck, how did you even know it wasn’t all me? Fuck, this is all fucked up.”

 

It felt odd to heal like that, it itched and felt like his skin moved on its own, but Desmond was glad that at least the pain was subsiding.

After a moment of rest in Alex’ arms, which was greatly appreciated, he could raise his hand to cup the back of Alex’ neck.

“Shh, just…” Desmond whispered and tugged him down until they could kiss. There was time to explain later, when he was fully healed and good to go, but right now, he just wanted some TLC until the world was right again.

 

When they parted, Alex was still as confused as before and he did not relinquish his hold.

 

“It’s, uh, I dunno what it is, but they told me they grew me a new body with a modified strain of the virus they took from some child connected to Greene. I’m the test subject. Again, hah. That’s how I’m alive. Oh, and my memories and all that? Rebecca found out that through sustained usage over years, the Animus kind of made a backup of me if you will. Combine those two incredibly sci-fi sounding this and...” He spread his arms, “Voilà. Shiny and new.”

 

Alex still stared at him. Desmond’s grin subsided. It was probably not so easy for Alex who must have had a really rough time if he’d been under Juno’s command all this time, so much that he wanted to  _ die _ .

 

“Hey...” Desmond said softly, sitting up as the last of his wounds closed, only to frame Alex’ face between his hands, “I’m so sorry. I really am and I’m here to try and make it up to you. I know that’s probably impossible, but I wanna try anyway.”

 

Desmond was talking, apologizing, but all Alex could process was that he was back, he was alive, and he was right here, in Alex’ arms.

 

The world didn’t hand out second chances like this often, and fuck, Alex wasn’t going to waste this one either. He came out of his stupor, letting the hood that usually shadowed his every expression crumble away from his face. He wanted Desmond to see every little piece of him.

 

“You don’t have to...do anything, Desmond,” Alex leaned in, pressing a kiss to Desmond’s cheek, his jaw, his temple, his nose, his lips. He’d never been an affectionate creature, but Desmond was the one exception. Desmond, who had survived death, or rose again like goddamn Jesus, it didn’t matter. He was  _ here. _

 

All of Alex’ rage and bitter loneliness drained away. He didn’t know if they’d always been there, always been his, but he knew that the Inu he’d consumed had contributed to his sudden change of heart where it concerned the human species.

 

They didn’t need improving. Not when people like Desmond existed. Sure, there was a lot of garbage people, but they were just the dirt, crusting a gem.

 

“I love you. I love you so fucking much.”

 

So much that he couldn’t live with what he was becoming and had made a stronger, just minded monster to kill him, but he doubted that Desmond wanted to hear that right now.

 

Alex pressed their heads together again.

 

“I don’t care how or where; I’m sticking with you.”

 

Desmond’s smile returned as he nuzzled his head against Alex’, arms snaking around him.

“Please do. You’d think that saving humanity allows you one wish to be fulfilled and I think this is it. Just stay with me, Alex.”

 

“It’s a done fucking deal.”


End file.
